Beyond The Literature
by lightsabove
Summary: Sequel to BEYOND THIS ILLUSION (with summary of prior events). After the birth of her son, Tabitha needs closure before the next step in their relationship – marriage. The Doctor helps them, but the trip goes wrong. They're stuck in another universe until the Doctor can get the TARDIS working again. SHERLOCK/OC & slight WHOLOCK
1. Easier Than I Thought!

_So, we have a winner of the PLOT CONTEST! I am not going to tell which one, you'll just have to see. This is the sequel to Beyond This Illusion - although I have done a quick summary of what all happened,__** so you don't HAVE to read the first one**__. You may want to, though, just to get more details than what I have given you. AND NOW... on to the story..._

_(P.S. I have thrown in a major emotional moment for Sherlock - it brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it. BE PREPARED FOR THE FEELS)_

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**CHAPTER 01 - Easier Than I Thought!**

_THE ROAD SO FAR:_

**_JUNE 1_****_st_****_, 2013:_** Tabitha decides to spend a stormy night in watching Sherlock in her new one bedroom house. Unknown to her, the TARDIS is about to crash in her backyard. When the Doctor knocks on her door, the TARDIS throws out some energy, making her disappear into thin air.

**_SEPTEMBER 4_****_th_****_, 2014:_** Dr. John Watson is assigned to a woman who has no identification, and seems to not exist at all. She knows things about him, and Sherlock Holmes, that no one else should know. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade puts her into Sherlock and John's custody while they figure out who this woman is.

Sherlock finds himself distracted by Tabitha, with her impossible story and arousing body. The Doctor finally finds them, and befriends the characters of the television show. Tabitha is under Mycroft's employment of sorts – keeping him updated with Sherlock's business while getting paid for it. After a while, it becomes clear that Moriarty's right-hand man, Sebastian Moran, has teamed up with the Doctor's enemies – The Weeping Angels.

She has befriended Mary, John's girlfriend, and Molly, who is dating a wonderful man named Victor, and starts to move on from her late husband, T.J. Of course, she still struggles with the choice of having the Doctor take her back to her universe, or stay in the current world. She also befriends the once-thought-dead Irene Adler, who pops up at the most random of times.

Tabitha finds out she is pregnant. Sherlock starts to learn how to cope with the idea of being a father, and Tabitha seems to be the only person who has the patience to deal with him. He finds himself falling in love with her, no matter how hard he tries to ignore all the emotions. After three months of the Angels getting steadily closer, they realize that Moran is holding someone of value in exchange for control.

The Statue of Liberty – their leader.

Sherlock's crew and the Doctor devise a plan to face Moran. It seems to go wrong at first. Tabitha deviates from the plan, John and Mary get captured, and the Doctor has to face the Weeping Angels once more. When Moran realizes he was just another one of Moriarty's pawns, he loses his head, giving Sherlock, Lestrade, and the Doctor a chance to intervene. The police takes care of Moran, and Lestrade and the Doctor have a conversation with the Angels that are in the room with John, Mary, and Tabitha.

The Angels and the Doctor come to a truce – everyone lives, just this once. The Angels get their leader back, and the Doctor and his friends are free to go this one time.

**SEVEN MONTHS LATER**

He couldn't sit still as he rode with Lestrade in the police car, the sirens blaring. Lestrade looked more panicked than he did, though Sherlock kept having to wring his hands and run his hands through his hair.

"Sherlock, you haven't said anything. Aren't you excited?"

"It's a natural occurrence."

"If you don't show a little emotion, Tabitha is going to knock you out!"

At that thought, Sherlock felt his chest tighten with panic. All the sentiment that he had been forcing back fell on him like a splash of water. His pulse raced, his breathing increased, and he felt nauseated. His mouth became dry, and he swallowed loudly. He looked at his phone, hand trembling, memorizing the date he knew would be in his mind for the rest of his life.

_Friday, June 12, 2015 – 1:45pm_

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"She's ready to push! Come on in, Mr. Holmes!" Dr. Rory Williams called happily. Sherlock felt awkward in his scrubs, but he rushed in nonetheless. Tabitha had insisted that only Sherlock, Dr. Williams, and the nurse be present. He gulped as he took in the sight before him quickly – Tabitha in a hospital gown, sweating and huffing, with Dr. Williams finding a spot between her splayed legs. The nurse stood by her side, saying encouraging and soothing words to the woman in labor.

"Sherlock, get over here or leave the room!" The look on Tabitha's red face was not something he was going to argue with, so he rushed to her side, and she gripped his hand. He gulped and brushed the sweaty strawberry blonde strands from her eyes. She looked into his eyes with tears. Sherlock put on a determined face and pressed his forehead to hers.

"It will be over soon, all you have to do is push. Remember the birthing classes you made me go to?"

"Twice. You went only twice!" She grunted and clenched her teeth.

"The head is crowning! Get ready to push!"

"Yes, remember? You can do it, darling."

"Oh, god, it hurts!"

"Of course it does, you're giving birth to a watermelon-sized child –" Tabitha pulled her hand from his hand and smacked him across the face. He shut his mouth after that, his eyes wide with surprise, and let her grip his hand as tight as she wanted.

"Use that anger to push!" Dr. Williams ordered loudly with a chuckle. Tabitha cried out as she pushed, crushing Sherlock's hand in one and gripping one of her knees with the other. She gasped in air as the nurse congratulated her on being almost finished. "Alright, Tabitha, one more push. One more, and your son will be born!"

With a sob and a cry, Tabitha pushed one last time, and the next sound was a piercing shriek of a baby. Dr. Williams and the nurse cheered, and gesture Sherlock over to cut the umbilical cord. Tabitha burst into tears and flung herself back, exhausted. She put her hands over her face as she cried. Sherlock appeared next to her and kissed her forehead.

"Shh, we're almost done," he reassured her, with tears in his eyes. As they finished cleaning up the baby and delivering the afterbirth, Tabitha decided that she was going to sleep for a whole week. She was sore, tired, and aching to hold her newborn child. Dr. Williams proudly let Sherlock take the wrapped newborn into his arms. Sherlock stared down at the baby, a wrinkled, pink mass in his arms. It didn't look like much, his practical mind said to him, but the emotional side picked out all the unique features of his son.

He had downy hair on his head, as dark as his, and his mother's nose. His eyes weren't open, yet, so he'd have to study them at another time. The baby stretched and made noises in his arms. Sherlock took a shaky breath.

"Sherlock," Tabitha whispered, sniffing and wiping her tears.

"Oh! Oh, yes," he murmured, not able to speak louder than whisper because of the sentiment he was feeling. He looked at Tabitha, and realized this was the best moment of his life. He handed their son to her gently. He felt his hands tremble as the weight left his arm – the fear of doing something to harm such a small human on his mind. As Tabitha cooed and murmured to the infant, Sherlock took the time to memorize all that had happened in the labor room and stick it in a special place in his mind palace. He ignored everything but Tabitha and the baby. The nurse came beside Tabitha and instructed her on a few things, including helping the baby began to breast feed.

"This isn't so hard," Tabitha quipped with a shaky laugh as she helped the newborn latch onto her nipple.

"Not at all!" the nurse replied with a laugh.

"You might want to tell your crew out in the waiting room your good news," Dr. Williams suggested with a chuckle. "Why don't you spend a few moments getting acquainted with your little one as we get your overnight room situated?"

Tabitha smiled at the man, and the nurse busied herself around the room and with Tabitha, preparing mother and son for their trip to the overnight room. She motioned toward a small room where Sherlock could take the scrubs off and clean up before heading into the waiting room.

"I… I don't think I should leave her…"

"She's a nurse, Sherlock, she knows what she's doing?" Tabitha chuckled tiredly. She yawned just as the baby pulled away from her nipple. "Oh! Are you finished?" The baby let out a little cry, and Sherlock stepped closer to look down at it.

"Can I… can I touch him?"

"Seriously?" Tabitha asked incredulously, raising her eyebrow at him. "He's your son! Of course!"

"Right! Obviously," he replied, chuckling. He bent down and touched the baby's cheek. It was soft and plump. The little boy turned his head and made to suck on his finger.

"He's still hungry. Go tell everyone while I feed him."

"Right! Right. You'll be fine in here."

"Yep."

"I'll be back."

"I know."

"Immediately after I tell them."

"I expect that."

Sherlock felt giddiness slide into his body and mind as Tabitha grinned up at him from the bed. The baby had latched onto the other nipple, drinking greedily. Sherlock smirked and quickly changed out of the scrubs. He washed his hands and made his way out into the waiting room. It was crowded with people there just to welcome his child into the world. It was an odd sight to him, and it made him a bit uncomfortable to have this much support. He wasn't used to it.

Mary and John were seated next to each other, gripping each other's hands and watching the door. Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson were leaning against the big window, gazing down into the parking lot. Mycroft and Anthea were both looking down at their phones, their fingers moving, as they sat in chairs. Molly and Victor both looked rushed from their messy clothes and unruly hair. They must have been busy doing… oh. Sherlock turned his attention to Mrs. Hudson, who was wringing her hands and murmuring next to John and Mary. The Doctor seemed to be conversing with the desk clerk.

He cleared his throat, and everyone turned excitedly toward him.

"He's here," he said. As soon as it left his mouth he realized how awful of that presentation of the good news was. "I mean, he's here, healthy, with Tabitha. Everything is good. You can… you can go now."

"Oh, please, like that's going to happen," Molly said with a snort of laughter. Everyone chuckled and stood up simultaneously. They surrounded him with smiles and pats on the back. Donovan and Anderson stayed back from the group, but sent him a smile and a nod of congrats his way.

"When can we see her?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Not all of you, they have to move her to a more comfortable room," Sherlock replied, pulling away from the crowd. "John, Mary, come with me."

John and Mary looked excitedly at one another as they followed the new father into the hospital room. The nurse was just about ready to take Tabitha, and her bed, to another room on the floor below. Tabitha had the baby in her arms, who was finished suckling her breasts and was sleeping. Sherlock looked at the frail little human with evident fear, and John snorted a laugh. It was returned with a glare from Sherlock.

"It's a baby. No need to be frightened," Tabitha joked tiredly, looking strung out but still beautiful. She handed over the baby to a nurse, who took it to the newborn area to get its own little bed taken to the private room. Sherlock, John, and Mary walked beside the hospital bed as two nurses pushed it to the elevator.

"Have you decided on a name, yet?" Mary asked, holding Tabitha's hand as they took the short ride down. Sherlock and John walked on the other side of Mary as the nurses pushed Tabitha toward the private room down the hall. Tabitha yawned.

"I haven't heard either of you discussing names," one nurse quipped.

"Sherlock doesn't discuss. He just figures it out," John laughed.

"It's a name, it needs to fit perfectly!" the other nurse smiled. They settled Tabitha into the private room, and her friends and fiancé stepped back to let the nurse do what needed to be done.

"I agree. It has to compliment the last name Holmes, but it also should have some emotional meaning to Tabitha," Sherlock stated, coming to Tabitha's side. John and Mary were surprised at what Sherlock said, but just hummed in agreement.

"Here is baby Holmes!" John and Mary stood up excitedly as another nurse pushed in the little baby bed that had the little one sleeping inside it. "He's sleeping now – Mommy should rest for a bit. It's going to be a rough first few weeks."

"He's precious!" Mary whispered, leaning with John over the small bed. The baby squirmed a bit in his sleep. He had on a blue sleeper. "He has Sherlock's hair!" She added with a quiet giggle.

"I can't believe you're his father, Sherlock," John commented as they pulled back.

"Why do you say that? He looks almost like me. The hair, most likely his eyes, his chin…"

"No, you idiot, I mean I can't see you as having a child," John said, rolling his eyes. They heard a small snore and turned to see Tabitha fast asleep. Sherlock felt better watching her, seeing how her body was relaxed and resting after such a painful ordeal as giving birth.

"I have a child now, John," Sherlock said, keeping his voice low. He ushered his friends out the door. "When Tabitha and the baby awake, I will call you. Tell everyone that Tabitha is resting. They can see her another time."

"I'll have Mrs. Hudson take care of your flat," John replied. He smiled at his friend with an odd look on his face, and Sherlock frowned.

"What?"

"Sherlock Holmes has grown into a real boy."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Sherlock mumbled as the couple whispered a goodbye. Sherlock knew that they'd take care of the crowd in the waiting room. Running a hand through his hair, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, his skin a bit more pale than usual, and there were noticeable circles under his eyes. The purple button-up shirt he was wearing was wrinkled, and his shoes were hurting his feet. He frowned at himself, though it only took a moment to realize why he looked this way.

Stress. That was the reason. He heard a small noise and turned to see his son wriggling in his bed. He stared for a moment, not sure what to do. The baby made a louder noise, and Sherlock saw Tabitha murmur in her sleep. Quickly going through reasons for the cry, he concluded that the baby was not hungry or needed his diaper changed – that had just been done a few minutes before.

That left another reason – comfort. Sherlock swallowed as he stepped up to the small bed and looked down. The baby wriggled again, and let out a wail. Quickly looking over at Tabitha, who was starting to wake up, he decided that he could handle this. He gently picked up the baby. He knew from research the best way to hold and calm a baby. He pulled him close to his chest and made shushing noises. The baby quieted down, turned towards the warmth of Sherlock's chest.

"Sherlock?" Tabitha asked, groggy and unfocused.

"Go back to sleep, darling. I've got him."

"I know," she replied softly, quickly dozing off.

Sherlock's legs were weak, although he didn't understand why. Keeping his eyes on the sleeping, calm child in his arms, he made his way to the chair next to Tabitha's hospital bed and sat down. Sherlock studied the child in the quiet of the hospital room. In a little while he knew that the nurses would take him to give him a quick check-up before nightfall.

Suddenly, the baby's eyes popped open. Sherlock stared back, his breath stuck in his throat as he realized that he was the second thing the baby had laid those striking light blue eyes on. He let out a shaky breath as the baby's hands reached up and wriggled through the air. Sherlock tentatively reached up to skim the small fist with his finger, mesmerized at how small it was compared to his large hand. The baby made another noise, and Sherlock smirked as the tiny fingers circle around his long one.

"You aren't as annoying as I thought you'd be, little one," he murmured.


	2. Marriage Talk

_Thanks for the reviews and follows and such! I'm glad you like it :) I have big plans for this story, and maybe another one after this - we'll see how this one ends, LOL. __**Don't forget to review!**_

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**CHAPTER 02 - Marriage Talk**

Two days later, Tabitha was resting on the couch with a baby attached to her breast. She was tired, cranky, and still sore as hell, but one look down at the infant in her arms had her smiling and almost forgetting all of the negative things. Sherlock was working vigorously with some evidence in the kitchen. He'd been more helpful than Tabitha expected – he'd ask if the baby needed anything, in an innocent and confused way.

"I've got it! The connection!" Sherlock shouted as he jumped out of the kitchen chair.

"Sherlock!" Tabitha hissed as the baby jumped at the noise, becoming unlatched and starting to wail. Sherlock's face was priceless. He looked sheepish and rushed over.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, crouching down to softly touch the baby's cheek. The infant quieted instantly, nuzzling his father's finger, then helping himself back to the nipple near his other cheek. Tabitha gave Sherlock another tired glared. He looked like he felt guilty – good!

"You need to remember there is a newborn here now."

"How can I not remember my own son?" He asked, entirely innocent, as he pulled out his cellphone to send a text to Lestrade.

"I just meant you can't go shouting or shooting at walls anymore," Tabitha replied with a sigh, switching the child to the other breast. Sherlock glanced over, and felt himself being aroused at the site of her plump breasts and dark nipples. Tabitha caught the glance. "No, don't do that Sherlock Holmes. We have to wait at least six weeks."

"Obviously. My body will always respond to you, though," he commented as he turned and headed back into the kitchen. Tabitha yawned and hard Mrs. Hudson climbing the stairs. The older woman knocked softly and opened the door when Tabitha called out.

"How's the little one doing?" she murmured as she let herself in. She took a seat next to Tabitha with a big smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, you're feeding him." She blushed as she stood up again.

"He'll be finished soon," Tabitha answered with a chuckle. As the baby finished up his feeding, Mrs. Hudson fluttered around, picking up odds and ends to put back in their original place. "Oh, you don't have to do that…"

"Oh, please, Tabitha, you just had a child! Why don't you get some rest?" Mrs. Hudson came back to the couch.

"He needs his diaper changed," Tabitha pointed out.

"I've got it! He's fed, so you're work here is done! I can change him."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!"

"I could use a nap," Tabitha murmured, giving in. Mrs. Hudson was someone she could trust, of course, so she shouldn't be so wary about leaving her child just down the hall. She gently gave the baby to Mrs. Hudson, who instantly began to murmur and coo at the child. Sherlock glanced over and then back to his work. "Sherlock, wake me up in forty-five minutes."

He didn't answer.

"Oh, don't worry, dear, sleep as long as you like."

"Mycroft is coming over to visit in an hour," Tabitha reminded both of them. Mrs. Hudson hummed with the comment and Sherlock squinted at the petri dish. Tabitha walked slowly, still sore all over, to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He straightened in his chair and turned his head so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "Did you hear me?"

"Mycroft will be here in an hour. I will wake you in forty-five minutes," he repeated with a smug grin. He turned back to his work. Tabitha leaned down and kissed his neck just below his ear. His hands froze, and she brushed her lips against his skin, again. Sherlock gulped and turned his head to send her a glare. Tabitha grinned at him. "You scolded me for looking at you lustfully, and then you all but torture me with your touch."

Mrs. Hudson turned her complete focus on changing the baby, her face a bit pink at the couple's words.

"So?"

"Tease."

"Wonderful man."

Those words caught Sherlock off guard, and Tabitha chuckled tiredly. She turned his head and kissed him softly on the mouth before pulling away. She nodded to Mrs. Hudson and made her way to the bedroom.

Sherlock rolled his neck and pulled away from the table. Standing up, he checked his resent texts.

**Denise Holland. Psychologist to two victims, having an affair with the other two. – SH**

**Two motives? – GL**

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the obvious comment from Detective Inspector Lestrade.

**I see no evidence of any other motives – SH**

**We'll talk to her – GL**

**How's the little one? – GL**

**Seems to be doing just as expected – SH**

**He's not an employee you set schedules for! – GL**

**A child will thrive with schedules to adhere to. – SH**

**Not a newborn! – GL**

**I've noticed that – SH**

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Tabitha was well rested for having slept only five hours in the last 24 hours. The nap she had just woken up from left her feeling more awake and aware than she had in a long time. She yawned and took her time changing into something other than her pajamas. She put on a long black skirt that went to her ankles and a soft light blue cotton t-shirt. She ran a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair, and wrinkled her nose. She needed to take a shower. Later, she decided, as she heard voices in her living room. She quickly put her hair up in a bun before leaving the bedroom.

"Molly, Victor, Mycroft! Wait, I wasn't expecting Molly or Victor," she commented to herself as the trio turned to her. Victor smiled and greeted her from his spot on the couch, while, Molly jumped up with the baby in her arms. Tabitha and she met in the middle of the room.

"He's precious," Molly gushed. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Sherlock doesn't like anything I suggest."

"Andrew and Steven are too boring for my son's name," Sherlock replied with an annoyed sigh. He was sitting in his chair with his violin in his hands, picking thoughtfully at the strings. Mycroft stood next to him, his umbrella in hand.

"Have you thought of naming him after your late husband, Tabitha?"

She felt her smile slipping from her face, a nauseated feeling coming over her. She took a step away from Molly and her son, and cleared her throat. Everyone saw the change in her demeanor, and quieted down to look at anything but her.

"Is… is that appropriate?" Sherlock asked, leaning over to whisper to Victor.

"Depends on her feelings," the other man replied just as quietly. Tabitha put on a smile and took a seat in the chair across from Sherlock.

"It's something to think about. I just want to make sure Sherlock and I agree on it," Tabitha replied. The baby wriggled and cried out. Tabitha took the child with a soft smile, her attention turned to the baby.

As Molly and Tabitha played with the baby, Mycroft gestured to Sherlock. He stood up with a frown and followed his brother to the corner of the room. Mycroft raised his eyebrows at him, and pulled a small box out of his coat pocket. He made sure to keep it out of sight from the women. Victor saw it, though, and watched them curiously.

"Is this the ring you asked for?" Sherlock took it with one hand. Victor turned to the women and did his best to distract them with name suggestions, and other baby topics. Sherlock opened the box quietly, then stared at the ring inside. It was simple – white gold band with a small heart-shaped ruby. Tabitha had mentioned in random conversation her aversion to diamonds – she said they were too boring. A smile twitched at Sherlock's mouth as he nodded and closed the box. He slipped it into his own jacket pocket.

"Did you solve the case of the body carvings?" Victor asked, grateful to be done with distracting the woman. Tabitha rocked the baby in her arms as Molly and she turned to look at Sherlock.

"Yes," he replied, taking his seat and pulling the violin back to himself.

"Well?" Tabitha prompted when he didn't immediately follow through with answers.

"The psychologist to the first two men wasn't happy with their confessions of cheating on their wives. The last two men she murdered she tricked into cheating on their wives and killed them for giving in to their urges."

"Two different motives," Molly murmured, moving to sit close to Victor. She casually grabbed his hand as she thought about what Sherlock had said.

"Molly, don't you two have a lunch date to get to?" Molly frowned. Victor looked as confused as his girlfriend. "The lunch date you always end up going to that happens to be in the janitor's closet."

Tabitha snorted with laughter as Victor and Molly both turned red in the face. They murmured their goodbyes and rushed out. Tabitha laughed again and turned to Sherlock.

"That was mean."

"I was right," he replied with a grin. Tabitha rolled her eyes.

"Well, I ought to be going. It's nice to see both of you and finally meet the little one," he said, walking to the door. He let out a soft, completely open smile toward the baby. Tabitha stood up and walked over to him.

"You haven't held your nephew, yet," she said softly. Mycroft blinked at her, and looked over at Sherlock. His brother was grinning at him, knowing something that Tabitha didn't. "If you don't want to, that's fine, but holding him now will help with connections as he grows older."

"Of course…" Mycroft answered. He leaned his umbrella against the wall and gulped as Tabitha put the baby into his arms. He held the little boy close, and bounced him a bit. The baby blinked up at his uncle, his arms wiggling and reaching. Mycroft smiled again, although there was caution in his eyes.

"Are you frightened of a newborn child, Mycroft?"

"Sherlock, knock it off," Tabitha glared at her fiancé, but couldn't help but smile. Mycroft visibly stiffened, but relaxed when the baby snuggled against his chest with a yawn.

"As much as I'd love to keep your attention, little one, I need to get back to the office," the elder Holmes brother said to the infant. Tabitha took the baby, holding him to her shoulder. She swayed as she waved goodbye to Mycroft.

Sherlock jumped up as Tabitha walked absentmindedly around the room. It was mostly for the baby's benefit, but Tabitha couldn't sit still at the moment. She walked to where Sherlock started to put on his suit jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"There may be case."

"No one has sent you a text."

"Have you read the papers?" he gestured to the one on the table. Tabitha looked at her as she gently patted the baby's back.

"The suicides?"

"They're murders."

"If there happens to be a woman in pink, we may have to be worried," Tabitha teased. Sherlock smirked and winked at her.

"Text me if you need anything, darling." He kissed her forehead and turned toward the door. Hesitating a moment, he turned back around and kissed the baby gently on top of his head. "I'll be back soon, little one."

"Hurry up so you can take your turn at feeding him the bottle in the middle of the night."

"You could just get up yourself instead of taking the time to pump your breast milk."

"You should leave before I hit you."

Sherlock realized how his comment had sounded, and his jaw clenched. He'd been trying so hard to be more attentive to Tabitha's feelings, especially since they were all trying to keep up with the baby. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Tabitha smiled.

"You were teasing…" he said as it registered in his mind.

"Mostly."

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Sherlock held the ring box in his hand that was stuck inside his coat pocket. The other hand was flicking a cigarette lighter on and off. He stared at the white wall in front of him, ignoring the sound of Molly talking to Lestrade and John about the newest murder-that-looked-like-a-suicide. He had already told them all he observed about the body, now it was time for Lestrade to make some calls.

It looked like a simple suicide by hanging, but the way the rope was tied compared to how much the man weighed didn't add up to him doing it alone. Either he had a partner who helped him commit suicide, or someone had murdered him and made it look like a suicide.

He flicked the lighter on and stared at the flame. The craving for a cigarette was always there, like a memory, but it had gotten easier for him to ignore it. His mind turned to Tabitha. The mother to his child. The only woman who accepted him without question. He felt a smile come to his lips as he thought about her, and purposefully turned it into a frown. He fingered the ring box in his pocket again as he flicked the lighter off. He leaned back against the wall.

Tabitha wasn't over the death of T.J. She hid it well enough, but mentioning it would send out obvious signs to someone like him that she wasn't ready to completely accept it. What had she asked him before? Was he ready? As he touched the ring box, he felt no signs of panic, no signs of fear appearing in his body. He assumed this was because his mind was ready to take this step of their odd relationship.

Was she? From what he had observed, she was not. They may have a child, they may love each other, but she was not ready to let go of her past life just yet. It saddened him, making his thoughts turn to ways to help her. There were ways to help someone get past the loss of a loved one. He went through the list in his mind, but only one stood out.

Tabitha would have to visit T.J.'s grave, say her final good-byes. This would take the Doctor's help, and he wasn't sure if the baby should come with them. Maybe they would have to wait a while, until the baby was a few months old at least. He would speak to the Doctor.

"Sherlock! We're going to talk to speak to the man's brother." Lestrade walked out of the room with John behind him. Sherlock followed him, and John fell into step at his side.

"You're acting just like you did right before you jumped off this building."

"Oh, please, I'm fine."

"That's what you said last time." John and Sherlock kept their gaze ahead while Lestrade chatted instructions into his mobile. They were about to reach the outside door.

"Tabitha isn't ready to get married."

"What do you mean?" John turned to look at him as they walked out the door of the building. Lestrade was still talking on his phone.

"I'll meet you at the brothers, yeah?"

"Yeah! We'll be right behind you!" John replied, waving him off. He turned back to his friend. "I thought it was decided."

"She's not over her past life. She hasn't completely moved on."

"Ah." John took a breath and thought about what Sherlock had told him. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I don't have to."

"Yes, you do," John countered, letting out a heavy sigh. Sherlock hailed a cab.

"I know her, John," he said, opening the door for his friend. John slid inside the cab and Sherlock followed him. "She needs closure. She's going to have to go to his grave."

"That's not possible. That's in her … universe," John said, his brows furrowed with thought. It had been a while since they had talked about Tabitha's universe.

"That's why I need the Doctor."

"Yes. That's a good idea." They were silent for a while. "You're completely absolutely in love with her, aren't you?"

"The physical symptoms of what everyone calls love is present, yes."

"Sherlock…"

"I can't envision the present or the future without her."

"That's better."

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Mary was finishing up the dishes in the kitchen of her flat, while Tabitha played with the baby in her arms on the couch. The little boy was five days old, and he still had no name. It frustrated everyone else to no end, but Tabitha and Sherlock weren't making a big deal out of it. John was off with Sherlock on a case.

"I am so glad you were off today – I'm getting so tired of being cooped up in the flat. I shouldn't say it, but it's _so_ annoying having things bought and handed to you!"

"Oh, yeah, that is bothersome," Mary scoffed sarcastically, wiping her hands on a dish towel. The baby made a noise and Tabitha answered with a coo. There was a knock on the door as Mary passed it. She hummed a soft tune as she opened it. Her eyes stared at Irene Adler.

"May I come in?"

"I suppose…" Mary answered, stepping back to let the woman in. She was in her usual dress and heels, matching white this time. She had a purse on her arm. Irene smiled and turned toward the new mother and son. "I'm sorry, it's odd to see you, knowing your past with my boyfriend and his friend."

"Oh, that's in the past," Irene said, waving it away with her hand. Mary followed her cautiously to the couch, and the women sat on each side of Tabitha and the baby. "He's a spitting image of Sherlock. Well, for an infant."

"Thank you, Irene," Tabitha chuckled. "Would you like to hold him?"

The baby stretched and kicked his feet.

"Oh, no, darling, I'm not a motherly type," Irene laughed lightly. She leaned forward, though, and let the baby curl tiny fingers around her soft finger. "I see you haven't used my beach house, yet."

"We haven't had time to deal with wedding things."

"Haven't you?" Irene slid her a knowing look before turning back to the child. She laughed and smiled, and the baby gurgled in reply. He started to pull her finger towards his mouth, but Irene pulled softly away. "No need to mess up my new manicure, little one."

"They've had a lot to deal with," Mary cut in, leaning over to see Irene on the other side of Tabitha.

"I know."

"Is that why you're here? To see if Sherlock is still available?" Tabitha felt irritation in her gut, and sent Irene a glare. Irene blinked at her, and Tabitha instantly felt guilty at her comment. "I'm sorry, Irene. I consider you a friend, even if I don't completely trust you. Tell me, though, why are you here?"

"Apology accepted," Irene quipped. She smoothed out her skirt before talking again. "In all honesty, I wanted to see the baby Holmes for myself. Sherlock has cause an uproar in my circles because of his life choices lately."

"Because he's not as cold as people think?"

"Yes. It may ruin his reputation."

"Or make him more dangerous."

"Hm," Irene hummed in thought, looking down at the baby with a smile. Tabitha watched the woman, wondering what was happening in her circles that had made her come visit with some kind of warning.

"Would you like some tea?" Mary asked politely.

"No, thank you, dear. I just came to take a peek at the baby," Irene repeated.

"That isn't all you're here for," Tabitha murmured, changing the baby's position to her shoulder. The baby squirmed and stretched as she patted his back lightly. Irene let out a sigh, and stood up. It took effort for Tabitha not to raise her voice. "Irene. You promised me that if my baby was in danger you would tell me."

"So I did," Irene murmured. She looked sympathetically down at Tabitha. "I've heard some whisperings of new tests for Sherlock."

"Tests. Like Moriarty pulled before he made Sherlock commit suicide to save his friends."

"It would seem so," she answered cryptically. Tabitha swallowed and shared a look with Mary. Irene made her way to the door.

"Irene." The woman turned around with her hand on the door knob. "Can you tell me anything else? I need to make sure Sherlock knows what to expect."

Irene stared at her for a moment.

"No," she finally replied. Irene slipped out of the door, and it was like she was never there. Mary sat next to Tabitha, biting her lip. The baby started making a fuss, and Tabitha snapped back into focus.

"I think he needs to be fed. Then changed. Then maybe we can get him to sleep so I can take a nap."

"Whatever happens, you have people to help you both, you know that, right?"

"I know," Tabitha said with a grateful smile. The baby cried out again. "Shh, I'll feed you know, I promise!" Mary put a romantic comedy in the DVD player as Tabitha hummed a random tune while the baby nursed.


	3. I Speak Baby

_This one is really long - because it's been a while since I updated. Classes started yesterday, so I've had some work to do. I'm trying to make a schedule so I can write at a specific time! __**Please review**__ - you figure out where they end up in this chapter! And a proposal - I tried to make it as u-ncliche as I could possibly make it, but still kind of romantic._

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**CHAPTER 3 - I Speak Baby**

After the talk with the brother, it was evident that it was indeed a suicide, but with the help of said brother. The dead man had terminal brain cancer, and decided to kill himself before the illness did. Lestrade was still deciding on whether or not to official charge the brother with some form of murder. Sherlock didn't understand why he wouldn't – this was clearly a premeditated killing. Assisted suicide was illegal in the country.

Sherlock stared at the wall behind the couch, and didn't move a muscle as Tabitha came into the flat. She was holding the baby's carrier on her arm as she tossed the keys on the coffee table. Sherlock watched her out of the corner of his eyes. She hummed as she sat the diaper bag and the carrier on the floor. His son was asleep, which was a normal occurrence. As it was going to be the next few weeks, he reminded himself.

"How is Mary?"

"Busy as always," Tabitha replied casually, slouching down to unhook the safety straps around the baby.

"Leave him in there while he sleeps," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes on the wall. Tabitha hummed and positioned the carrier by the wall so she could see the baby at all corners of the room. Tabitha moved to the kitchen to make herself a quick salad.

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

"We need to visit T.J's grave."

Tabitha dropped the knife she was using to cut up some cucumbers. Sherlock stood up at the sound and strolled to her side. She picked it up and washed it quickly under running water. He leaned against the counter and watched her silently.

"Sherlock, we can't go."

"All we need is the Doctor."

"There are a lot of reasons why we can't go," she answered. Sherlock observed that while her voice was light, the way she was cutting the vegetable showed that she was getting irritated with the subject.

"If it's about our son, I understand. We need to wait a few weeks, maybe a few months –"

"It's not just that!" she exclaimed. Tabitha clamped her mouth shut as she put down the knife and turned to face Sherlock. She pushed hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. "Going to another universe is dangerous. The Doctor said so. You are a character there – not real, fiction, fake. There is another man, who is famous for being you on TV, wondering around with your face."

"Sightseeing will not be on our list of things to do," Sherlock reassured her, speaking softly.

"Why do you want to go?" Tabitha asked, confusion in her eyes as she looked into his.

"You need closure, Tabitha," he replied.

"I already have closure. It's been almost three years." She turned back to her salad-making. Sherlock waited until she was finished cutting up the cucumber and was putting dressing on it before speaking again.

"You're not ready to take the next step with me." Sherlock's voice held a hint of apprehension. Tabitha glanced at him as she picked up the bowl and a fork and made her way into the living room. Sherlock followed her, both sitting on the couch. The sleeping baby was next to their feet on the floor. Tabitha nibbled as she watched her baby thoughtfully.

"Maybe you're right," she finally answered.

"I'm always right."

"You're mostly right," she answered with a smile. Sherlock smirked back. Tabitha leaned in and brushed her lips against his, then went back to her snack.

"I am right about this. When Mycroft mentioned naming our baby about your late husband, you very nearly had a panic attack," Sherlock pointed out.

"I know."

"I've never wanted to get married. It seems archaic and backwards. In the last few years, however, the sentiment of being with people I care about gave me a better understanding of why people get married. Of course, that didn't change my mind, but I could see. When I saw the pain and hurt in your eyes as you told me about your late husband, I realized that it wasn't just a legality. The marriage you had with T. J. was more than just a few silly words, it was honesty, faith, and love."

Tabitha had stopped eating in the middle of Sherlock's words. She stared at him as he finished up his thoughts. He scooted closer, taking her hands in his. He looked exactly like he did when she first saw him on her television, although a bit older, but the words coming out of his mouth was so out of character that she wasn't sure what to believe.

"As much as it baffles me to say it, I'm in love with you. Sexually, I am extremely satisfied. Emotionally, you've opened up a new part of my mind. I can't imagine my future without you."

"Sherlock…" Tabitha breathed, feeling tears begin to form in her eyes. He looked worried as she sat the bowl of food on the coffee table. "I'm in love with you, too." She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to sob.

"Why… why are you crying? I'm sorry… are these good tears?"

"Yes," she chuckled, pulling back. "I'm sure it also has to do with the emotional and physical exhaustion of having a newborn."

"Of course," he replied with a smile. He understood why she was crying now, a bit at least. His arms were around her waist, holding her close, their foreheads touching. "I still don't think you're ready. You need to do this."

"When did you get so sentimental?" Tabitha chuckled quietly.

"You are a bad influence, my love," he murmured before kissing her softly. The baby began to rustle in the baby carrier, and they pulled back. "I'll get him. I haven't spent much time with him in the past few days, have I?"

00000000000000000

"Prescott Nicholas Holmes!" the Doctor exclaimed, laughing as he held the giggling, bright-eyed baby in his arms. He had the same face, but his hair was shorter, and his outfit was completely different – skinny jeans, a white t-shirt under a black vest, and black sunglasses. Sherlock watched the Doctor with his son, a small smile on his face. The past six weeks had been busy – the criminals in London had been on a murdering spree, which had made him extremely busy and entertained. Lestrade, though, was rather irate with him being so joyful at the crime scene.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Tabitha laughed, bumping Sherlock's side with her elbow. The baby was grabbing at the Doctor's sunglasses as he bent his head close to talk to Prescott. The Doctor chuckled and took them off, playing a game of give and take with the object.

"Isn't that why we chose it?" Sherlock asked.

"He looks just like you, Sherlock!"

"He has his mother's nose and facial structure."

"Just say thank you!" Tabitha replied with a roll of her eyes. She leaned back against the railing around the console, and Sherlock did the same thing. "We have a favor to ask you."

"All you need is to ask," the Doctor replied, looking up from the infant in his arms. Prescott let out a giggly shriek and reached toward the sunglasses again. The Doctor put them on the infant and let out an amused sound. "Look at that! He looks like a secret agent baby!"

Prescott took them off and stuck his tongue to the lens.

"We want to go to my universe."

The Doctor's grin turned into a straight line. He moved the baby so Prescott was laying against his shoulder, and furrowed his brow.

"I meant anything but that."

"Tabitha needs to go to T.J.'s grave, nothing else," Sherlock stated. His eyes bore into the Doctor's, eyes, challenging him to deny their favor. The Doctor sighed and looked at Prescott.

"What about the little Holmes? He's only six weeks old – he needs your attention right now." The Doctor said it cheerfully, but Tabitha knew that he was making an excuse not to help them. She felt disappointment at his brush off. He was now walking around the console, pointing out little levers and knobs while talking to Prescott and telling a little bit of information about each one.

"I need this. Please," Tabitha added, sending pleading eyes his way. She pouted her lip with her hands clasped in front of her. He sent her a defeated look.

"Fine, but I will only do this if it's important," he answered, stepping up to Sherlock. He pulled Prescott of his shoulder, and Sherlock took his son. Tabitha smiled at the way his gloved hands seemed huge while holding the baby. Prescott was just the right size for his age, of course, though.

"I can't marry Sherlock until I say goodbye to T.J."

"That is a very important," the Doctor murmured. It was silent for a moment, and then the Doctor started to rush around the console, giving a quick shout to the TARDIS. "A quick little stop, and then we can go back and see Clara!"

"Wait, what? Now? No, we –"

"Might as well go now!" the Doctor said with a wink and a smile. He pulled of his sunglasses and threw them in a little indention on the console with style. "It'll only take a few hours, and you have all of Prescott's things in the diaper bag!" Tabitha touched the big bag that was hanging on her shoulder. "Take a seat and hold on!"

The TARDIS began to shudder. Tabitha and Sherlock scrambled to the seats attached to the railing around the console. Sherlock's coat was open, his scarf had been left back at the flat. The tight dark green button up shirt was a bit wrinkled from the busy few weeks. Tabitha had decided on simple black yoga pants and a bright yellow t-shirt.

Prescott let out a shout of glee and kicked his feet as he laid in Sherlock's arms. Tabitha looked over at the man beside her, and all he did was grin at her. She rolled her eyes and placed a soft kiss in the middle of Prescott's dark hair. He was wearing a simple green onesie with little jean shorts. His feet were bare.

"He seems to like the ride," Sherlock chuckled as the TARDIS shook around them. They bounced a bit in their chairs, and Prescott cried out again with a giggle. The TARDIS hummed back just for him, and he reached up toward the light in the center of the console. He throw out some sounds and flexed his hand. The TARDIS made a sound back, and the console flickered a bit.

"Is the TARDIS talking to my son?" Tabitha asked, looking around in surprise and awe. The humming of the TARDIS filled the room, and Prescott responded to each pulse with sounds of his own. Sherlock was fascinated, looking back and forth between his son and the light in the center of the room. There was a look of concentration on his face, like he was taking in all the information he was observing between the two.

"She's always loved babies!" the Doctor replied as he pushed another button. He moved around to look at the screen, and the look on his face turned from excitement to concern. "We are going to be entering the void between the universes, so it may get a little bumpy." He turned back to them with a grin and found a seat on the other side of Sherlock. The tall man looked a little uncomfortable with being in the middle, but seemed to forget that when Prescott reached up, touching his chin.

The Doctor had been understating when he said it was a little bumpy. Suddenly, the TARDIS seemed to run into a brick wall of sorts, making the three adults and one baby bounce in their seats and scramble to hold onto the railing. Prescott started to whimper, and gripped the collar of Sherlock's coat. Sherlock held him close as everyone held on and let the box rattle their brains.

"Shh, it's alright, little one, I promise," Sherlock murmured close to the baby's ear. Tabitha moved close to Sherlock and held on to his arm with her free hand. He sent a reassuring glance her way. The Doctor looked apologetically at them, and then jumped up.

"Come on, you can do it!" he shouted, looking up at the ceiling. He gripped the console edge as the box bounced against some kind of wall one last time and suddenly feel eerily quiet and still. The light was still on in the middle, but the constant hum was gone. The Doctor frowned and looked around.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked. Tabitha and he slowly stood up, while Prescott looked around with wide-eyes. The baby sniffled, and the adults looked at him. Suddenly, he burst out in tears, wailing loudly. "Uh… did I do something?" Sherlock looked at Tabitha, and she frowned, taking Prescott from him.

"No! I'm sure it was the trip," Tabitha said reassuringly. She bounced Prescott in her arms, trying to get him to calm down with soft words and touches. The Doctor worked frantically at the console as Sherlock weaved his way around the room, going up and down stairs, under the console deck, and back. Prescott's wails turned to whimpers, and he turned to reach toward the light in the middle of the room. "It's the TARDIS – he knows there's something wrong."

"Here, let me talk to him," the Doctor replied, coming over and took the baby from Tabitha's arms. She watched curiously as he looked down into Prescott's eyes. The baby made noises kicked his feet, staring back. "Oh, that is not good, is it, little one?"

"What?" Sherlock asked, coming back to stand next to Tabitha. His gloves were off and sticking out of his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking around. "There seems to be nothing out of place."

"No, there wouldn't be. What else did she say?"

"What? Who?" Sherlock asked, his eyes finally settling onto the Doctor with his child in front of him. He frowned and looked over at Tabitha, who shrugged with as much confusion as him.

"Prescott. I speak baby," the Doctor replied with only a glance up to them.

"You speak baby," Tabitha repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, now let us converse," the Doctor said with a roll of his eyes. He moved the baby a few feet away from them, murmuring down. Sherlock and Tabitha exchanged a glance with wide, surprised eyes as they heard their six-week old son make noises back.

"Doctor, are we in Tabitha's universe?"

"Yes, but it seems we have a problem," he answered with a frown as he turned back to them. He handed Prescott to Tabitha, and used his hands as he spoke to them. "The TARDIS seems to have caught some kind of bug as she was going through the void –"

"But it's a void, there is nothing there."

"We were there. Sherlock, please, I'm the one who knows about voids and universes, remember?" Sherlock grunted but shut his mouth. Tabitha fought back a laugh, but it went away as she saw the look on the Doctor's face.

"So, she's sick. How do we … treat her?" Tabitha asked, pulling out a colorful set of plastic keys from the diaper bag at her side. Prescott pulled it to him and started to suck on the blue key, watching the adults with interested eyes.

"Prescott says that she said that she can't be treated – it's one of those viruses that you just have to let run its course," he answered, wringing his hands. They all were silent for a moment as the realized what that meant. The Doctor nodded slowly as they narrowed their eyes in realization.

"We're stuck here until she gets better," Sherlock replied with the obvious conclusion.

"Exactly. The good thing, though, is that we can stay here until she gets well enough to take us back."

"Where is here?" Tabitha asked, walking toward the door. Sherlock followed her, and the Doctor took the back of the line. She opened the door, and one by one the three adults stepped out. Tabitha absentmindedly brushed her finger over Prescott's fist as they looked around their location.

"T.J.'s grave," the Doctor murmured, peering down at the stone in front of them. Sherlock frowned and looked over at Tabitha, who had frozen in her spot as soon as the Doctor's words came out. He saw the look of emotional pain on her face, and didn't know what he should do. The Doctor sent him a small smile. "I'll go inside and see if there is anything I can do to help the process go faster."

"Doctor, will you go inside for a moment?" Sherlock moved to stand in front of Tabitha. She looked guilty for being distracted from their son, but Sherlock kissed her forehead quickly and took Prescott. The baby reached for the Doctor, and he went inside, closing the blue door behind them. Sherlock's bare hands moved to Tabitha's cheeks, and he looked into her eyes. "Tabitha, are you alright?"

"I just… wow," she replied, taking a deep breath and wiping a tear in the corner of her eye. Sherlock's hands went to her waist. He struggled with what to say next. What does one say for this sort of situation? The first thing that popped into his head was not a good start – saying that its three years and she should be over the pain was a way to unintentional insult her. He stayed quiet and pulled her close.

Tabitha rested her head on Sherlock's chest, her arms around his waist under his coat. They stood like that for a few moments before she pulled back to look up at him.

"I didn't know what to say. Should I say something?"

"No," Tabitha said with a light chuckle. "It's been three years – I should be over the pain. I mean, I've dealt with it correctly, and I really have accepted that he's gone." Sherlock was surprised that her words matched his first reaction, but didn't let it show. Tabitha took another deep breath and pulled out of his arms. "Remembering the good times just makes me sad."

"I can understand that," Sherlock replied, moving to stand beside them. They stared down at the typical gravestone.

_T.J. Hunter_

_1987-2012_

_Soldier, Husband, Friend_

There was fresh flowers in a glass vase next to the marker. Tabitha smiled sadly, knowing it must be T.J.'s mother that had put them there. The urge to find her, and to see her old book shop, hit her hard. She swallowed and wrung her hands in front of her. Sherlock seemed to sense her thoughts, and put a hand at the small of her back.

"We can't go there, you know that."

"I know," Tabitha replied with a sign. She turned her head up to Sherlock. "Can I have a moment? Why don't you make sure the Doctor and Prescott are okay?"

"The Doctor is like a tall, clumsy child, isn't he?" Sherlock murmured with a smile. Tabitha chuckled and let Sherlock squeeze her hand before turning around and heading into the blue box. Tabitha suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. She narrowed her eyes, looking around. The graveyard was big, and they were in a far corner, away from the main road and hidden by small trees. No one would know the box was here.

She saw a young woman in the distance, sitting and seemingly speaking to a headstone. Tabitha smiled and turned her head back to the marker in front of her.

"You'll never guess what has happened in the last year. I was thrown into another universe – the Sherlock universe, and fell in love with the frustrating man. I should feel guilty or something about being in love with someone else, but I know what you'd say if I said that to you. You'd laugh at me, tell me to shut up, and to follow my heart. You always put my needs, my happiness first. Except the whole deployment thing, but that's not something you could have helped."

Tabitha stopped and squeezed her hands tightly together before continuing.

"I have a baby! I'm sorry we didn't name it after you – it's hard to find a name that works with the Holmes tradition of odd names. I've met all the characters we talked about – even Anderson and Donovan, who turned out to be better people than we thought. I just hope that I'm not in the third season here – do you realize how much hate I'd get?"

Tabitha chuckled at that, and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt a breeze through the trees, and had a brief thought about bringing a jacket – it was fall here in the Midwest. She swallowed as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I hope I made you proud. It was hard, but I did my best. I figure you'd be disappointed if I didn't move on. I have. I love you. Always. I don't think I'm going to be able to come back."

Tabitha stopped talking because of the lump in her throat. She swallowed, sniffed, and blinked rapidly to try and make the tears stop from falling. It didn't help, of course, and she let them fall as she silently cried. After a few moments, she felt someone next to her. Looking over at their feet, she knew it was Sherlock from the black dress shoes.

"I can't completely understand what you feel, or why you're saying those words, but know that I hate to see you so sad."

"I know," Tabitha answered with a tear-filled laugh. Sherlock smirked and kept his eyes on the grave. Tabitha took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. "What did the Doctor say? How long will it be?"

"A few days, most likely."

"Right. I wonder if he has M&Ms," she quipped with a smile. Sherlock smiled back, but stopped her when she turned around.

"Are you sure you're finished? You can –"

"Yes. I'm sure. I've said my piece. It helped."

"Good. I'm glad," Sherlock replied. He looked at a loss as to what to do next. He cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his coat pocket. "Does this mean we can get married?"

"Not until you ask me properly," Tabitha chuckled. She glanced over at T.J. grave. Sherlock followed her gaze.

"I'm not sure it's appropriate to ask here…" he answered slowly. Tabitha grinned and put her hands on his shoulders.

"I don't care where we are."

"Right. Of course," he replied, clearing his throat. He shuffled his feet, stepped away and pulled something out of his pocket. He looked down at it, playing with it in his hands as Tabitha waited. She rocked back and forth on her heels.

"Sherlock?"

"I… I just want to do this right." He furrowed his brow as he knelt down on one knee. Tabitha's heart jumped into her throat, even though she knew what he was going to say. He looked out of character, kneeling there in his popular coat and suit with that dark-green buttoned-up shirt she loved. His hair was dark and curly, blowing lightly in the breeze. His cupid-bow lips turning up into a rare, true smile. She could even see the nervous shake in his hands as he opened the box. She grinned at the ring – perfect!

"So far, so good," she said softly. She clasped her hands in front of her and waited with a smile. Sherlock cleared his throat again, and looked down at the ring in his hands. He looked back up to her.

"Tabitha. I – I never thought I'd be doing this out of an emotional need. If it ever did happen, it would be for a case. I am still very confused by all these emotional thoughts and plans, but I suppose I've learned to accept that I am human, in some ways."

"What else would you be?" He frowned at her, until he saw her grin. He smirked up at her with a chuckle.

"I can't see my future without you. I have grown comfortable with your presence in my life." Tabitha and Sherlock heard the TARDIS door open, but ignored it. They knew who it was. "Will you… marry – no wait, that's not what I want to say!"

"Now I'm confused," Tabitha answered with a frown. There were tears in her eyes, but Sherlock stood up quickly. He took her hands in his tightly. He looked down at her, and Tabitha saw the rare emotion and openness in his eyes.

"No! No, saying 'will you marry me' makes it sound like it's all about the legality of marriage, which it isn't. I love you. Will you be my wife, not only lawfully, but spiritually, as well?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation, and Sherlock looked caught off guard for a moment. He seemed to be frozen, squeezing her hands tightly and swallowing loudly. Tabitha let out a loud laugh and threw her arms around his neck. Sherlock closed his eyes, breathing in her presence, as the Doctor cheered in front of the blue doors. Prescott answered the sounds with a gleeful cry of his own, which made the adults chuckle more.

"I don't know what to do, now," Sherlock admitted sheepishly, his hands on her waist. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck and took his lips with her own. She moved them over his slowly, languidly, their mouths drinking each other's silent words. Tabitha breathed him in, and he did the same. When they pulled back, the Doctor was blushing and babbling to Prescott about the blue paint on the TARDIS.

"I'm starving. Let's get something in the kitchen?"


	4. Choose, Doctor!

_Sexual dreams, but nothing too long :) We meet Benedict! At first I wasn't going to have there be a connection, but as I write the sexy scene that is later, I realize I need that for the plot. So, here ya go. Benedict is the complete opposite of Sherlock, and it was fun to write!_

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**CHAPTER 4 - Choose, Doctor!**

_The beauty next to him growled and pushed his shoulder with her hand, moved to straddle him. He held her hips tightly as she pulled down his trousers just enough to let his erection bob out. She wrapped her hands around him, and his hips lifted as he groaned. She glanced at his face, and saw his eyes closed and his head tilted back._

_She scooted down and lightly blew on the tip. She looked up into his now opened eyes as she took the head of his manhood into her mouth. His eyes watched her hungrily, his breathing more of a pant. She closed her eyes and took him fully inside her mouth, enjoying the taste of him more than ever before. She worked him with her hands and mouth until he pulled at her hair. She pulled away, and straddled him once again._

_"Tabitha –"_

Benedict groaned and reached out with a blind hand to get his mobile phone. He clutched it tightly, hoping that would be enough to stop the buzzing. He sighed, frustrated, when it buzzed again in his hand. He shut his eyes tightly, urging himself to go back to sleep and finish the erotic dream. The only thing it caused was his erection to grow more painful.

He slowly opened his eyes to blink at the sun streaming into his bedroom. He mumbled a few curse words as he threw the blanket off of his body and sat up. He threw the buzzing phone on the bed and ran a hand through his newly cut ginger hair.

**Ben, what is going on?**

**Proposing in a graveyard – that's different.**

**Why haven't we met her yet?**

**Tumblr is going crazy.**

**I thought we agreed that you wouldn't take any of the costumes from the set?**

**What are you doing in America? I thought you said you were going to Greece?**

He frowned as he watched the messages go up with each vibration. What the bloody hell was going on? He stood up and stretched. It was the first day of his three week vacation, and no one was going to ruin it. I couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep in with no plans for the rest of the day – it was almost like it was a dream. He breathed in deeply as he opened the sliding glass door, the air salty and warm. He sighed, pushing the sensual dream to the back of his mind.

A shrill ring cut off his relaxing thoughts. Ben growled and marched back to his bed. He answered his phone while he searched through his drawers to find something to change into from his pajama pants that he was wearing.

"What?" He didn't mean to sound rude, but he had given specific instructions to only call him for an emergency. He had been gone only one day, and something had already happened. He found a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

"You're creating a stir," his friend chuckled. He heard sounds of pots and pans in the background – Steve must be at the restaurant early.

"I haven't done anything, I swear it," he answered, shoving his pajama pants off and pulling on his jeans without anything underneath it. He had no plans, no need to look his best.

"Check out the photo I sent you."

Ben grunted as he pulled his shirt over his head and brought his phone down to look at the photo. He blinked a few times to makes sure he was seeing what he was seeing. He sighed and walked down the hall to his kitchen to get some breakfast.

"I'm sure it's a … what are they called, cosplayers? There have been some exceptional ones," he replied. He pulled out a bowl and a spoon – he wasn't in the mood to have a feast. Cereal would be just fine. He poured a bowl of cereal.

"Maybe. It's a damn good one, then. Have you really looked?"

"Yes! Yes, it is well done, but it's not me. Can you fix this?" he pleaded, pouring milk into the bowl. His friend chuckled on the other line, and Benedict was a bit irritated that his friend was finding this amusing. "Steve, please! I'm on vacation – I need this!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, Karen and I will send out a statement – no worries."

"Thank you," he replied, calming down. He took his bowl into the living room and plopped down on the plush couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And, seriously, _do not call me_ unless it's an emergency."

"Aye aye, captain."

"Shut up," Ben chuckled, switching the phone off. He tossed it beside him, but then picked it up again. He opened the photo and studied it. It was uncanny how much it looked like him in full Sherlock mode – although the green shirt was new. The woman and man were facing each other, staring into each other's eyes, as a ring box was between them.

Dressing up as his character to propose was an odd thing to do, but they looked happy. The man could be his twin – he squinted his eyes at the photo – his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth, all the same. It had to be a coincidence. He'd read somewhere that it was very possible to have at least one person who looked similar to oneself.

Benedict froze as he stared at the profile of the woman. It was Tabitha – the woman from his dreams. His mouth went dry as visions of the last few dreams about her slammed into his mind. The first one had been at the end of July and the yellow lacy undergarments haunted his memories constantly. The next time had been a dream of furious love-making that ended in him being a complete asshole and leaving her laying there. This last dream had been the third and final one.

It had to be a coincidence. He couldn't help the tug of apprehension in the back of his mind, though.

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That night Prescott slept like a baby, with the TARDIS humming a soft lullaby. He slept in a makeshift bed of blankets next to Tabitha and Sherlock in one of the many empty bedrooms. It was a room of dark blue and black decorations. Sherlock spooned Tabitha, who in turn slept with her face toward the baby.

Prescott woke up first, getting stuck in the blankets. Tabitha woke up just in time before he slid off the bed, and held him close as her heart beat fast in her chest. Sherlock mumbled and sat up. Tabitha quickly changed his diaper. Sherlock murmured and laid back down. Prescott still made a fuss after she was done.

"I think he's hungry," Sherlock mumbled, turning around and wrapping his arms around her waist. She huffed a laugh as she took out a breast to feed Prescott. Sherlock nuzzled her thigh. Suddenly, the Doctor burst in, sonic up, with a pair of red plaid pajamas on. His hair was a mess. He squeaked and quickly shut the door when he saw Tabitha's naked skin. Sherlock sat up, again, confused.

"Doctor, what's going on?" he called.

"Are you decent?" came through the door. Tabitha rolled her eyes, used the blanket to cover herself and the baby, and called out an affirmation. "Good. I heard the baby cry. Is he alright?"

"He was just hungry," Sherlock huffed, throwing the blankets off of him and sitting up. He didn't seem fazed as he stood up, shirtless and wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms the TARDIS had provided. After examining them for over an hour last night, Sherlock had finally put them on. "Why?"

"Ah, not used to having a baby on board," he answered with a shrug. He turned away, and then turned back. "Oh, we may have a problem."

"We already have a problem – the TARDIS can't take us back," Sherlock called out as he went into the bathroom connected to their room. Tabitha rolled her eyes and resituated the baby against her chest. She made sure the blanket was still over his head, just for the Doctor.

"Well, yes, but this has to do with you," the Doctor yelled to Sherlock. "Well, your face."

Tabitha's realized what he meant. She groaned and put her head in her free hand.

"Oh, god, people saw him."

"Yes. He's all over the news. Well, Benedict Cumberbatch is."

"Damn. We can't ruin this man's life!"

"What do you care about a man you've never met?" Sherlock poked his head out, toothbrush still in his mouth. He continued to brush as he leaned against the door frame. "I'll stay inside the TARDIS – it'll die down."

"There is another person's feelings at stake here, Sherlock." Tabitha turned with a frown. Prescott seemed to be finishing up, and she switched him to another quickly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back into the room to finish brushing his teeth. The Doctor came inside, opened up a cupboard that was empty last night, but now had a flat screen television. Tabitha hummed in amusement. Sherlock came back and plopped down on the bed. The bounce unlatched Prescott from Tabitha, and he cried out in annoyance. Tabitha glared at him, and his mouth tightened, his eyes forward.

Of course, he wouldn't apologize. She should have known.

The Doctor flipped on the television with the sonic screwdriver, and stepped back. The three adults watched, and Prescott finished up his nursing. As Tabitha burped him, she watched the television with guilty heavy on her mind.

"Benedict's people has issued a statement saying that this man is not him. He's in Greece, not America, and is enjoying his three-week vacation on the beach. There is no woman, and he is definitely not getting married."

Sherlock smirked.

"See? Everything is fine."

"Sources say, though, that this was indeed Cumberbatch."

Sherlock frowned.

"Sources? What sources?" Tabitha frowned, moving to change Prescott's clothing. The Doctor shrugged and made to turn off the television.

"Wait!" The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's exclamation. "I want to talk to him."

The Doctor and Tabitha shared a glance, and burst out laughing. Even Prescott giggled along as Tabitha put him in a gray onesie, blue trousers, and a blue jacket. Sherlock frowned and looked back and forth between them. He jerked himself up and walked over to Tabitha, who was finishing dressing their son.

"Sherlock, you can't talk to Benedict Cumberbatch." Tabitha took a step back as Sherlock picked up the giggling infant. The man cracked a smile, brushed his lips against the baby's forehead, and turned back to Tabitha.

"Why not?"

"He'll freak out! We'll get arrested!" Tabitha threw her hands up and moved to find some clothing to change out of her own pajamas. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head.

"Why? We'll just go to talk."

"He's in Greece!" Tabitha huffed, pulling out jeans and an over-sized shirt. The Doctor stuttered a bit as she threw off her shirt, too annoyed to notice he was still in the room.

"S-she's right," he answered, turning quickly and looking at the wall. Tabitha raised an eyebrow at Sherlock as she took of her pants and quickly got dressed. "The TARDIS won't get us anywhere."

"Not even just to Greece? We don't have to leave this planet or time, or go to another universe," Sherlock countered. The Doctor hummed thoughtfully.

"No! No, we cannot just show up at his door!"

Tabitha took Prescott so Sherlock could get dressed.

"I'll… let's talk about this in the console room, yeah?" The Doctor rushed out as Sherlock stripped. Tabitha let her irritation slip as she eyed her naked fiancée. Sherlock caught her heated look as he pulled on his usual black trousers.

"Soon," he murmured huskily, buttoning them while staring at her. She felt her face flush and her body heat, and then glared at him. He sent her a grin and finished getting dressed. She rolled her eyes, picked up a few toys, and headed out into the console room. Sherlock followed her by a few seconds.

"I have a psychic paper – I can get into anywhere!" The Doctor held up a wallet-sized notebook thing, grinning like an idiot as he opened it.

"It's blank." Sherlock looked bored.

"Really?" he glanced at it and then shrugged. "Ah. Well, anyway, it'll work!" Sherlock didn't look convinced.

"This thing is infinite, right? Can we get a playard or something?" Tabitha said, looking up and around the console room. The TARDIS seemed to hear her, as it began to hum loudly and a door flung open just up the stairs inside the hallway. The Doctor hurried up to see what it was while Sherlock and Tabitha leaned against the railing, with Prescott playing with one of his toys in Tabitha's arms. The Doctor came back down the stairs with a bundle in his arms.

"Green and yellow!" he cried excitedly as he quickly set up the little playard. It was big enough that Prescott could move around in, although at six weeks the best he could do was fling his arms and legs around. He needed tummy time, though, and the adults needed to talk about things. Tabitha set him inside, laying a few toys within his reach to keep him occupied.

"Sherlock, why do you want to talk to him?" Tabitha asked after she was convinced that Prescott was safely tucked away. She took a seat in the chair besides the playard, leaning forward so her elbows were on her knees. Sherlock had his hands on his hips as he circled the console, thinking and murmuring to himself.

"You say he's me – everything is exactly alike. I want to know for sure." He stopped in front of her and turned around so she was looking up into his face. He furrowed his brows as he looked down at her. "I _need_ to know." He ran a hand through his hair. Tabitha frowned, unsure why he was getting so forceful about the subject.

"He looks exactly like you, but your mind and thoughts and personality is all yours," she replied softly. The Doctor watched them, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the console with his feet crossed at the ankles. Sherlock murmured to himself some more. "Sherlock? What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he growled loudly, roughly throwing out his arms. Prescott made noises, and Sherlock moved to look down at his son, hands on his hips. Tabitha and the Doctor watched him, unsure what he was going to say or do next. After a long moment of silence, the Doctor seemed to catch on.

"Prescott has half your DNA – which means that the actor is technically his father, as well."

"Whoa, what?" Tabitha sat up, trying to connect the dots. It took a moment, but when it did she felt herself blushing. "Wait, you're jealous of a man I've never met?"

"Jealousy is a petty emotion," Sherlock answered, still staring down at their babbling son, who was slobbering over a toy happily. Tabitha rolled her eyes, knowing that his words were a confirmation towards the fact that he did feel jealous. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist, pressing her nose softly against his shirt.

"If you really have the need to see him, we should go, I trust you," she answered, turning her head enough to send a look to the Doctor. The man didn't look happy at what she said. "But," she added, pulling back and moving to stand beside him. Her hand touched his arm and she looked up at his face. He returned the stare. "We really shouldn't – like you said, if we leave everything alone, it _will_ go away."

"I'd like to meet the man who made me in this universe," Sherlock stated simply, shrugging nonchalantly. He turned fully toward Tabitha and placed his hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow as he leaned down and kissed her. He frowned after he pulled back. "That is the oddest statement I will undoubtedly ever say."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," the Doctor interrupted loudly. The couple sighed and broke apart. Tabitha sat down beside Prescott's playard while Sherlock stepped over to the Doctor to converse about his wants.

"I can't sit here for however long it's going to take for this box to repair itself. I need something, this is a case I need to have to keep occupied!" The urgency in his voice escalated with each word, until his face was tight with frustration.

"Sherlock –"

"I want to take apart the TARDIS, study its make-up." The Doctor stared at him. "It's that or Greece."

"You can't take the TARDIS apart – the vortex will make your mind explode –"

"Choose, Doctor!" Sherlock suddenly ran down some steps to the side, making his way under the console. Tabitha and the Doctor heard him rattling some things and then a huge scrap as a metal door was being opened. Tabitha rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

"Wait! Fine, I'll take you!" the Doctor called out uneasily. Sherlock's head poked over the deck floor edge with a grin. The Doctor sent him a glare, but it turned into a smirk as Sherlock joined him. "I can't help but be curious myself. I've always wanted to meet him – he's an extraordinary actor."


	5. Prickish Ways

_I just got done writing the threesome scene, and it's going to take a whole freaking chapter. It's long, sexy, and I had to take breaks just to catch my breath! I hope you like it - it'll be one or two chapters after this. I'm trying to figure out where to go with this story - if Benedict should be involved with Tabitha or if it should just be a sex thing once or twice or something. I don't know. We'll see how things play out, right?_

_At the end is a __**sexy scene between Sherlock and Tabitha**__! This is the first time after she's giving birth, for those of you who asked._

* * *

**CHAPTER 5 - Prickish Ways**

Day one of his vacation, and he was already bored. Benedict put his hands behind his head and lazily scanned the beach down a ways from his balcony. He'd spent a lot of money on this little house on a private beach, although little was not the correct term. It had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a furnished basement, and a huge deck attached in the back that had stairs leading down to the beach.

The soft wind rustled his hair as he felt himself dozing. His foot started to tap on the ground involuntarily, and he groaned as his eyes popped open. He sat up straight and ran his hands through his hair. The black polo shirt and jean shorts seemed overdressed for a simple afternoon lounging at the beach.

He needed something to do – anything!

Standing up, Benedict rubbed the back of his neck and made his way over the wooden deck towards the sliding glass door. He slid it open, but froze when he heard an odd hum behind him. He felt the wind pick up heavily, and turned quickly.

"What the hell?" he murmured to himself as a blue police box appeared out of thin air. Before he could think of running into the house and locking himself in, the door flew open and voices came out.

"Sherlock! Stop, seriously, you can't just run out there!" Female. Familiar.

"Of course I can!" Male. _His_.

A man stepped out, and Benedict felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It was a mirror image of himself, although as Sherlock. The suit trousers, the green buttoned-up shirt, and the curly hair were familiar. Benedict stared, not able to move, as Sherlock eyed him up and down, curiously studying him.

"You were right," he commented, humming in appreciation. His hands were in his pocket, and he smiled with obvious excitement. A woman appeared behind him, carrying an infant. She grimaced and looked apologetically at Benedict. The baby was facing outward in her arms, and was shaking a set of plastic keys, making small noises. "We are exactly alike."

Benedict's face heated, and he realized why the voice sounded familiar – it was the woman from his dreams! His body responded to the memories, hardening painfully in his shorts. He swallowed and fought hard to maintain a normally curious face.

"I am _so_ sorry," Tabitha directed at the actor, looking guilty and nervous. "He wouldn't take no for an answer." She was in her 20s, with long, curly strawberry blond hair. She was curvy and a full foot shorter than him, and was wearing yoga pants, a yellow t-shirt, and flip flops. It was obvious the baby in her arms was hers. Did that mean that the infant was this man's child, as well? Benedict remembered the last dream – Tabitha's stomach full and round with child.

"You're… wow." Benedict did know what to say. His mouth felt dry, and his head was starting to pound. He let go of the sliding door and turned to fully face his twin. They were eye to eye, mirroring each other's poses.

"Sherlock Holmes, apparently a fictional character you play." He extended his hand with a smug grin. "Isn't this fascinating?"

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Tabitha watched as the handsome actor stared at Sherlock. Prescott wiggled in her arms, seeming to like the breeze that touched his skin. Sherlock extended his hand, grinning, and the man looked down. Tabitha felt her stomach flipping, and suddenly felt panicked.

"Okay, Sherlock, you saw him, let's go," she quickly said, situating the child's head to her shoulder. She pulled at his arm, and Sherlock frowned, putting is arm down, and stood his ground. "Seriously. I am _so_ sorry, Mr. Cumberbatch. I know this is weird, we shouldn't have come here."

"You were in the graveyard from this morning," Ben stated, his voice showing curiosity. Sherlock turned his attention back to his twin and smirked. They watched each other's movements with the same eyes.

"Yes. We were paying Tabitha's late husband some respect. We're getting married, and we thought it was only appropriate."

"That was only a few hours ago."

"That's where I come in," the Doctor interrupted, taking a stand next to Tabitha. She bit her lip nervously as she watched Ben's reaction. "I'm the Doctor," he said, moving to stand next to Sherlock. "I love your work. You are simply extraordinary! Amazing!"

Tabitha had to smile at his excited words and motions, using his hands to convey how great he thought the actor was. Prescott seemed to enjoy it as well, because he decided to shriek in excitement himself.

"I'm Tabitha," she said, stepping between the two tall men. "This is Prescott – our son." Benedict seemed to relax, but still kept a guarded look in his eye. She felt butterflies and her body react as she stepped closer to the man. "This is really Sherlock Holmes. It's a long story…" she stopped, realizing how crazy it all sounded. "Long, long,_ long_ story."

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Sherlock kept his eyes on Benedict as they sat in the man's living room. They were all pleasantly surprised when the man let them inside. The Doctor was currently having a conversation with him, standing near the sliding glass door, explaining the TARDIS and how Tabitha had ended up in Sherlock's world. Tabitha and Sherlock were seated on the couch, with Prescott playing on her lap. He would need to be changed soon, Sherlock observed. Tabitha had a flush to her face, and kept glancing in the actor's direction. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Benedict, feeling a rush of something new – Jealousy.

"Sherlock, he's exactly like you physically – of course I'm going to be aroused by him," Tabitha murmured softly, turning to pull a diaper out of the bag beside her. Sherlock stiffened, and she sighed, pulling Prescott to her shoulder. "I love you," she whispered, leaning close and kissing his cheek softly. He felt the corner of his lip pull up.

"You sound like me more and more every day," he murmured back, leaning forward to capture her lips. They kissed softly, but were interrupted by Prescott batting his little fist against their faces. There was a throat clearing across the room, and Tabitha pulled back with an embarrassed smile on her face.

"He needs to be changed – mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, no, of course not, first door on your left," Benedict said with a polite smile. Sherlock's smile turned smug as he stood up, his hands in his pockets, and walked to the other two men. Benedict turned to him with curiosity and fascination in his eyes. "This is simply incredible."

"You don't think we are playing a game with you."

"I believe in what I see. I saw the TARDIS appear out of thin air. I saw you step out of the police box. I hear your voice. I don't see any other explanation."

Sherlock was impressed at his voiced thoughts. He couldn't get the way Tabitha had reacted to Benedict out of his mind, though, and it frustrated him even more. He frowned and narrowed his eyes, getting is thoughts together before he deduced. The Doctor seemed to sense what was about to happen, because he suddenly stepped between them and laughed uncomfortably.

"Would you like to see the TARDIS? She is quite the fan, as well!" He raised his eyebrows, clapped his hands together, and turned toward the door.

"We are not the same." Sherlock's voice made the Doctor stop. Tabitha came out at that moment, hearing it as well.

"Sherlock…" Tabitha stepped in front of him. "Take your son. He wants you." Prescott reached for him and made a noise, as if he wanted to prove his mother's point. Sherlock's temper cooled a bit, and he took Prescott in his arms. He eyed Benedict, who seemed not to know how to answer the statement. Tabitha turned to face Ben. "You know him – I mean, his character – the whole jealousy thing is new to him. Considering you are the same man, physically, I find you incredibly attractive, and it's a bit confusing…."

She shut her mouth quickly and felt her cheeks flush. Benedict blinked at her and gave her a shy smile, running his hand through his hair.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied. Ben turned his gaze to Sherlock. "Trust me, I know that we are not the same. I put a lot of time into the character of Sherlock."

"Obviously, I am not just a character," Sherlock growled. He pushed past Ben and held Prescott close as he pulled the glass door open. He stepped out onto the deck silently and made his way back to the TARDIS. The three adults in the house were silent as they watched him murmur words to Prescott as he disappeared into the blue box.

"It's hard to see him with a child," Benedict commented, his voice a bit too loud in the uncomfortable silence. "I shouldn't have said that –"

"It's a weird situation," Tabitha chuckled, feeling herself relax. As she smiled at the men, they visibly relaxed as well. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked back and forth between Benedict and the Doctor. "I wanted to apologize for the trouble we caused, with the whole proposal in a graveyard thing."

"Yes! Yes. I told him not to come – it would cause more trouble, but he's a little stubborn," the Doctor said with a little shrug. Benedict chuckled and gazed out at the blue box.

"We're stuck here for a few days – the TARDIS is sick –"

"Yes, the Doctor explained it to me. You're welcome to stay here. It's private and it may be better if you stay with me," Benedict said with a smile. Tabitha felt her breath catch as she stared into his colorful eyes, and looked away quickly. Her face flushed and the Doctor cleared his throat again.

"I should make sure it's okay with Sherlock. He seems to not like you very much."

"Just as I expected."

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They spent the night in the TARDIS. It was still sitting in Benedict's backyard. Sherlock had growled and complained about the man late into the night, and all Tabitha could do was listen and try to be patient. Prescott sensed her annoyance, and barely slept himself. Sherlock was sleeping like a rock, and it made Tabitha even more irritated. She pulled herself out of bed and walked over to the playard, where Prescott was on is back, kicking away and making loud noises.

"Daddy is being a pain in the you-know-what," she told him, picking the infant up and putting him to her shoulder. Tabitha slipped on her black flats, pulled a baby blanket around Prescott, and made her way down the hall to the console room. It was empty and quiet, the light in the middle slightly pulsing. It seemed more alive than it did yesterday, which was a good sign.

Prescott put his mouth on her skin, and she chuckled, realizing he was hungry. She sat in a chair near the console, situated the baby, and began to nurse him with the blanket over her naked skin and his head. She hummed softly as Prescott took his time. The room was a bit chilly, but that could be because of the thin yellow pajama pants and black tank top she had on.

The door to the TARDIS opened softly, and Tabitha jumped, clutching Prescott closer. Benedict poked his head in, and began to stutter and flush when he realized what she was doing.

"I'm sorry… I just couldn't sleep, and wanted to explore…" He stood at the blue door, holding it open and looking around the room nervously. She smiled tiredly and chuckled.

"I'm nursing, no big deal. Come in. We couldn't sleep, either," Tabitha replied. Benedict closed the door softly behind him, and stood shuffling his feet. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – wrinkled sweat pants and white t-shirt. His curly ginger hair was messy from tossing and turning. He looked like Sherlock, except not. "Everyone else is asleep – you can look around. It's pretty remarkable. Did you know the TARDIS and Prescott have conversations?"

"Seriously?" he replied, surprise and amusement in his eyes. His lips turned into a small smile and he slowly ambled around the console, running his hand lightly over the buttons, levers, and knobs. He studied it slowly while Tabitha moved Prescott to her other breast. She fixed the blanket over his head and looked up at Benedict, who was watching her from under his eyelashes across the console. He looked away when their eyes met, his face coloring.

"Yes, the Doctor even speaks Baby. Whatever that means," she added with a chuckle. Benedict was shy and thoughtful, completely opposite of Sherlock. He sent her a raised eyebrow and stopped at the screen attached to the console. He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and tilted his head at the screen.

"It's Martin – I mean, John, I suppose," he remarked, turning to glance at her, than back at the screen. She looked at it, as well.

John and Mary were seated at the kitchen table in their home, chuckling over tea with Lestrade standing at the window. There was no sound, although Tabitha had no idea why. She remembered that Sherlock had spent some alone time here before going to bed – he may have been watching. He missed their home, Tabitha realized.

"Yep. That's Mary – they had just met when I arrived. They've lived together for a while – I'm starting to wonder when he's going to actually pop the question."

"That's not in the script," he teased. Tabitha perked up at the comment.

"Oh? So I'm not in the third series – thank god," she grinned.

"Not that I know of – we just finished filming the last episode."

"Wait… what?" Tabitha frowned, and Benedict turned to her. He looked as confused as she looked. Prescott was finished nursing, so she adjusted herself while Benedict snapped his head away, rocking on his heels. She smirked as she finished and put Prescott on her shoulder to burp him. She rubbed his back softly as Benedict turned his eyes back to her.

"Why do you look so confused?"

"It's September 2015 in the Sherlock universe. Well, in our universe." Benedict's mouth dropped.

"It's September 4th, 2013," he replied slowly. He looked away, gazing thoughtfully into space. "This is incredible," he said to himself, turned around to the screen. Tabitha finished burping the child and stood up, moving to stand next to the tall actor. Her arm brushed his, and she felt a jolt of excitement. She clenched her jaw.

"I know, it's crazy," she agreed. They looked at one another, turning their heads and catching each other's eyes. Tabitha looked away first, back to the screen. She reached out, touched a button on the side, and it went to their own flat. Mrs. Hudson was cleaning up the empty living room. "Her first name is Martha. I asked it the first time I met her."

Benedict grinned.

"Sherlock and I are the same person, physically at last, correct?"

"Yes," Tabitha answered. It seemed like she had heard this the whole night – actually, she had. "Sherlock has been complaining about you all night before he fell asleep – can we not talk about that?"

"I just… Prescott… that means he is technically my son, as well," Benedict stated, turning toward her. Tabitha turned to face him, holding the now sleeping infant close.

"Technically, yes."

He stared down at her, his blue-green-hazel eyes getting misty. Tabitha's own eyes widened, and she swallowed, realizing the emotional moment that was creeping up on them. She gave him an apologetic look, and he smiled at her.

"This is very strange." He raised a hand and touched Prescott's arm with finger, rubbing it softly.

"I know. It's complicated and weird and I promise we'll be out of your way in a few days."

"Of course. I understand. I really would like to have a friendly conversation with Sherlock, though." Benedict stepped back, pushing all the emotional feelings to the side for the moment. Tabitha chuckled loudly at his words, feeling more comfortable.

"He's as curious about you as you are about him. I bet he's just dying to deduce you and make you uncomfortable."

"I can't wait," he answered with a grin. He stepped close and leaned down, kissing her cheek. "I'll speak to you in the morning. You are all invited to breakfast when you awake – just come on inside."

Tabitha nodded as he turned, and touched her cheek after the door closed. Benedict Cumberbatch had kissed her cheek, and she felt butterflies tumbling around in her stomach. She shook her head lightly, reminding herself harshly that Benedict was not Sherlock. She made her way back to the room they shared, placed Prescott in the playard, and made sure the door was closed.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no, of course not. Prescott just needed help getting to sleep," she answered, pulling off her tank top. Sherlock watched her lazily, moving to his back and putting his hands under his head. She took in his bare chest and thin pajama pants as she pushed her own down her legs. After kicking them off, she slid in beside her fiancé. He furrowed his brows when she straddled him, placing her hands on his chest and pressing her center against his hardening bulge.

"As much as I'd love to reciprocate these touches, I understand it may take longer than six weeks to heal," he replied, although his voice was strained and his hands went to her hips. She grinned down at him, tilting her head so her long hair barely brushed against his skin. Sherlock's pupils dilated, and his hands tightened against her. "I take that as you are feeling able to engage in sexual intercourse?"

"You really know how to use words to turn a girl on," Tabitha replied in a husky whisper. Sherlock sent her a smirk, and lifted his head just as she bent down to kiss her lips hungrily. She hummed against his mouth as his tongue sneaked against hers. Her hands went to rest on either side of his head, on the bed, and she pressed herself hard against him.

"We should really take this slow," Sherlock murmured, rolling over and spreading her legs with his knees. He locked her arms above her head, holding the wrists with one of his big hands. Tabitha was panting beneath him, her breasts rising and falling. Her eyes moved to his mouth, and she licked her lips.

"We really should," she agreed, lifting her hips to brush the tip of his arousal against her slick heat. Sherlock growled and pressed the head of his cock just inside her folds. She gasped, and he caught her lips so she wouldn't make too much noise.

"I know you don't mind a little pain," he countered between nips and licks against her mouth. She chuckled and returned the frenzied kisses. Tabitha raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking them at the small of his back. He let go of her wrists and leaned forward on his elbows so his face was close to hers. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he thrust hard.

"Sherlock!" she gasped, doing her best to whisper, although it wasn't a very good job. He chuckled against her ear, nipping at the lobe, and moved languidly out. He thrust back in, and repeated the process slowly. "Sherlock," Tabitha growled when he took his time to thrust back in.

"Yes, darling?" he asked, teasing. Tabitha tilted her head back as he bit her neck, pressing her lips together so only a small squeaked came out. He moved deep within her, pulling out and thrusting deep each time. He murmured against her neck, although Tabitha had no idea what he was saying. She bit her lip hard, holding back the moans and whimpers as he pressed her hips hard into the bed.

"Please," she whispered, not sure exactly what she was asking for. Sherlock's face came back into her view, his curls wild. They breathed against one another's lips as he moved a hand under her behind to lift her up to push deeper into her for the final time. They gasped together as he shuddered and convulsed over her. Tabitha responded by clenching herself around him, grinding hard as her body stiffened in climax.

After a moment of lying there, trying to catch their breaths, Sherlock pushed himself up just enough to look down at her with concern.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not in a bad way," Tabitha replied, her voice hoarse and her mind in a dreamy state. He smiled at her, brushed his lips against hers, and pulled away fully. He winked at her and left to the bathroom. He came back with a big grin on his face as he cleaned her legs and center with a soft washcloth. "I hope someone other than the Doctor does laundry."

Sherlock chuckled at that softly as he slid into bed beside her. They faced each other, sleepily.

"Benedict is not me."

Tabitha huffed and closed her eyes. She pulled Sherlock close, her head under his chin. Their arms were wrapped around one another, and his thumb brushed against the small of her back absentmindedly.

"Sherlock, I know. Believe me, I know."

"But you are physically attracted to him."

"A lot of woman are physically attracted to him. You of all people should understand that physical attraction does not mean emotional attraction."

"Of course, I understand that." He sounded a bit frustrated.

"What's the problem? I love you."

"He seems so much more… your type." The last part was said in a whisper. Tabitha was silent. "I love you."

"I used to think he was my type," Tabitha finally admitted softly. She yawned into his chest and nuzzled him. "Then I met you and you won be over with your intelligence and prickish ways."


	6. I Have A Solution

_I am so sorry for taking so long to post! School started, work is annoying, and I just couldn't get int he mood to write. I have gotten my MOJO back, though, and there is a huge plot twist coming in a few chapters! The end of this chapter is where the sexy threesome starts - beware the hotness!_

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**CHAPTER 6 - I Have A Solution**

The TARDIS fascinated him, and he decided to explore it later in the day. It was still dark outside, early morning, but sleep decided to elude him. Benedict stared at the ceiling from his place on the bed, lounging with his hands behind his head. He wasn't staring at anything in particular, just thinking about all that had happened in the last twelve hours.

Sherlock Holmes. He was exactly as he was supposed to be, but Benedict could tell there was something more just bubbling under the surface. Tabitha, and Prescott, were the ones who brought it out – not even with John Watson did the emotions of insecurity come out. Speaking of Tabitha – she was rather lovely, but nothing like someone Sherlock would be involved with. The fact that they had a child together, and they were getting married, completely blew his mind.

He replayed their small conversation a few moments ago in the TARDIS. The way her eyes glanced at him, the flush that crawled over her cheeks, and the feel of her soft skin under his lips as he kissed her cheek. It made his body become heated, and he frowned. Seeing the couple together made his mind think that he was the one involved with her – that had to be the reason his body was responding this way. In a blink of an eye, he envisioned watching her face as she orgasmed underneath his body, clinging to him as he shuddered and released inside her.

"Bloody hell," he whispered hoarsely, jerking to a sitting position. His breathing had become heavy, and he had a hard-on like no other. Ben brought his hands to his thighs, squeezing them into fists. It had been a while since he had been with a woman. It was definitely not fair that this woman was involved with someone who looked exactly like him. He grunted and laid back down, determined to fall asleep.

_Ben faced her, holding her close. Tabitha smiled tiredly at him, both of their bodies covered in sweat and tired from their lovemaking. _

_"Benedict's not me," he heard himself say. She frowned, and his chest tightened. This was the woman he loved, the only woman he had ever loved, and the other man was getting those heated looks that had been reserved for Sherlock._

_"Sherlock, I know. Believe me, I know."_

_"But you are physically attracted to him." Ben felt insecurity like he'd never known curse through his body. Their relationship was walking a thin line, with his impatience and arrogance that he knew he possessed. A woman would only tolerate that for so long – just like anyone he became close with. Even John had left him for a woman._

_"A lot of women are physically attracted to him. You of all people should understand that physical attraction does not mean emotional attraction."_

_"Of course, I understand that."_ _He wasn't ignorant to the appeal of the features they shared. The looks were obviously connected with virility and nearly-perfect genetics. His height, metabolism, mind, and other things were on the list of beneficial genetics._

_"What's the problem? I love you."_

_"He seems so much more… your type." Tabitha was silent. Ben wasn't sure what it meant, so he added another phrase. "I love you." The words felt foreign on his lips._

**_Buzz buzz buzz_**

The sun coming through the window seemed to catch him straight in the eyes as he turned to reach for the mobile. He groaned and pulled it towards him. After blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up and read the text message.

**See, I told you it would go away** **– Steve**

Benedict felt relief crash through him, and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at the clock, seeing it was already mid-morning. He stretched and pulled himself out of bed. Searching through his dresser drawers, he thought about the complicated dream from last night.

Sherlock Holmes, his fiancée, their child, and a two-hearted alien had appeared with a blue box in his backyard. He laughed at his imagination as he pulled on jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He padded barefoot into the kitchen and froze.

All four faces turned to him, even the infant's eyes. They were seated around the counter that jutted out to become a bar in the middle of the kitchen. The Doctor had changed into another outfit of hipster proportions – skinny jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a white vest. It was like he was the negative-version of yesterday.

Sherlock had only glanced at him, then turned back toward the baby that was sitting on the counter in front of him, being propped up by Sherlock's hands. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Benedict had to blink at the sight – without the signature suit jacket and trousers, this man looked exactly like he did.

"I hope you don't mind that we're in here – you said we could just come in," Tabitha said, breaking into his thoughts with a shy smile. He remembered his dream of her laying naked in his arms, and felt his face heat up.

"No, of course not, I said you could," Ben replied, clearing his throat. He made his way around them toward the coffee pot. It was full. He turned to Tabitha with a raised eyebrow.

"I figured it would be okay," she answered. He returned the smile, but quickly washed it off his face when he felt more than saw the glare Sherlock gave him. This guy really had to deal with his insecurities. Benedict laughed, suddenly, and everyone frowned at him. He turned, leaned back against the counter, and poured himself a mug full of coffee.

"What?" the Doctor asked, looking through the local newspaper. Benedict saw that the words were now in English, instead of Greek. He opened his mouth, but the Doctor answered before he could speak a word. "The TARDIS translates anything into English."

"Ah," he replied, sipping his coffee. Sherlock and Tabitha were murmuring to one another. Ben turned his eyes to the man. "I was just thinking how normal you look."

00000000000000000000000000000

"I'm anything but normal," Sherlock replied, keeping his eyes on his son. The little boy let out a giggle and a smile, and Sherlock couldn't resist answering it with his own lips turning up. He picked up Prescott and held him close. He felt Tabitha touch his leg and glanced over to see her give him a quick wink.

"And you never get tired of showing off," she laughed. He smirked and sent a look of agreement to his fiancé. Prescott babbled and pulled at his collar. The Doctor choked on his laugh and sipped his coffee to cover it up.

"It must be odd not having psychotic criminals or alien statues chasing you, eh?" the Doctor stated to no one in particular. Benedict looked confused, and the Doctor looked up over his mug. "Long story – the alien statues were being controlled by Moriarty's right hand by taking the Statue of Liberty hostage. They wanted Tabitha so that Sherlock would hurt like Moran did when Jim Moriarty died."

"That sounds like a horrible science-fiction movie."

"Lestrade looked like he was going to pee his pants when he had to face the Angels," Tabitha quipped. Ben snorted then cleared his throat.

"I know you've been wanting to do it," Benedict interrupted, taking a seat across from the couple on a bar stool. He sat the mug down in front of him, and rested his arms on the counter. His big hands were clasped in front of him, and his eyes were sending a challenge to Sherlock. "You don't keep track of what is out there about myself. Deduce me."

Sherlock brushed his lips over Prescott's forehead before immediately breaking into a long-winded monologue.

"You went to Harrow on a scholarship, although your parents could definitely pay for it. You have a hard time staying in relationships, but you long for a partner and children in the near future. You sketch in your spare time, but you haven't been able to do it in quite some time, most likely due to your career. You prefer the city, but take advantage of little vacations out in the middle of nowhere for time to yourself. You're well educated, but tend to have low self-esteem when it comes to how your co-workers and such think of you."

He took a breath, and everyone else watched him silently. Prescott yawned sleepily against his shoulder.

"You are a smoker, but you've cut down. Not sure why, your mind works so much better with nicotine. You've been all over the world in the last few months, promotions and interviews, I'm sure. A night with friends recently, although your attempt to bring home a woman failed."

Tabitha snorted and covered her mouth. She smacked a smug Sherlock in the arm, and turned her face to the flushing man in front of them.

"He's being a huge ass."

"But he's completely correct on all accounts," Benedict replied, standing up and moving to the sink. He placed his mug inside, and put his hands on the counter, leaning forward. Tabitha felt horrible, seeing the man's embarrassed face.

"Sherlock, you brought up every negative thing he's thought of himself," she whispered to him. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He's in the public eye – he's heard it before." Benedict turned his attention to the Doctor, and they wondered off into the living room, out of sight and hearing. Sherlock deduced that he was getting a cold shoulder, as they say. He didn't care, though, of course.

"You're not going to apologize, are you?"

"I need to change our son," he answered, his eyes avoiding Tabitha's annoyed ones. She huffed and crossed her arms over her face as he took the baby into the bathroom to change him. Standing up, she followed the path the other men took and saw them sitting on the couch, discussing future Sherlock episodes.

"Can I talk to you alone?" The Doctor looked up, but saw that she was looking at the tall, handsome actor.

"I need to check on the TARDIS," the Doctor murmured, leaving them quickly. She sat awkwardly on the couch next to him. Benedict quirked a smile at her, sitting back and lounging lazily against the cushions. His legs stretched out in front of him, and his hands went up behind his head.

"I'm sorry."

"It has nothing to do with you. You aren't responsible for him."

That made Tabitha frown thoughtfully. He was wrong, of course. She was responsible for Sherlock – they had a son together, and it was her responsibility to make sure he learned the ways of emotional bonding with him. Benedict leaned forward, coming close to her.

"I need to help him –"

She was cut off by Benedict's soft lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she softly gasped, which allowed his tongue to sweep over hers. She let out a soft moan and leaned forward, returning the sensual kiss. Tabitha felt his hand on her cheek, and leaned into it. His body was suddenly closer, pressing against hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms moved to envelope her waist.

She pulled back slowly, her eyes wide and troubled. Benedict looked at her painfully, feeling horrible guilt swallowing his chest. Her hands moved to his chest to push him away, but he held her tighter.

"I feel like I know you – like I've known you for a long time. I've been having dreams about you off and on for the last few weeks." Benedict's admission was not what Tabitha expected to hear.

"It seems we're connected mentally."

They both pulled apart and stood up, shamefully running their hands through their own hair. Benedict's jaw clenched when he met Sherlock's eyes, and Tabitha swallowed over the lump that appeared in her throat.

"W-what do you mean?" she whispered, not knowing what else to do. She wringed her hands in front of her. Benedict's hands fell into his pockets, and he stared back at Sherlock.

"I saw – and felt – that kiss. I must have dozed off while the Doctor and Prescott were playing."

"I'm so sorry," Tabitha replied, rushing to him and placing her hands on his chest. Tears filled her eyes, and her voice broke. "It just happened – I didn't mean to –"

"Shh, I understand," Sherlock murmured, taking her cheeks in his hands. She blinked rapidly, but a tear still slipped out. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tear. Benedict opened his mouth, but a glare from Sherlock had him shutting it again, his face full of guilt. Sherlock turned back to Tabitha. "I have a solution."

"A solution," Benedict repeated.

Sherlock ignored him and moved a hand behind Tabitha's head, pulling her roughly against his body. His mouth dipped and fell over hers greedily. Tabitha whimpered and returned with just as much severity. Her hands moved to wrapped around his neck, and his other hand found her hip, squeezing. He staked his claim, showing Benedict just who Tabitha belonged to. His mind went blank, the only thing with his attention the woman in his arms. A moan sounded, and he didn't know if it was Tabitha or himself.

"Uh, I can go…," Benedict stuttered, pointing with his thumb toward the stairs. Sherlock pulled away quickly, making Tabitha stumble into his chest. Her eyes were glassy, and she looked at him with confusion.

"What was that for?" she breathed. "Don't get me wrong, it was bloody amazing, but it was very random."

"We are connected mentally. Benedict and I," he added to clarify. He turned to the uncomfortable man. "Did you feel that?"

"Uh, well…"

"Are you aroused?" Benedict's eyes went wide, and he put up his hands, stuttering. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned Tabitha toward Ben by her waist. Now, she was facing Benedict with Sherlock pressed close to her back. "You felt it. The kiss. My desire. _Your_ desire."

Tabitha couldn't find words for the thoughts in her head as Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close enough that she could feel his erection against her behind. She glanced down at Benedict's hips, involuntarily, and sucked in a breath at his obvious bulge.

"You said… you said you've been having dreams?" she questioned huskily. Tabitha licked her lips and brought her eyes up to Benedict's face. His arms went to his side, and he took a step forward, glancing at Sherlock just behind her. She felt Sherlock nod slightly, and Benedict stepped closer. They were toe to toe now, and Tabitha felt heat all around her. Both of the men's bodies were giving off desire and heat, and it made her want to shed her clothes and let them do whatever they wanted to her.

"Yes. All of them have to do with you… and I…" he trailed off, glancing questioningly at Sherlock.

"When we make love, it seems Benedict is there as well," Sherlock murmured close to her ear. She shivered and pressed back against him. His arms tightened on her waist. Benedict moved a hand to touch her cheek, sliding it over the skin to caress the side of her head.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stuttered. Tabitha's gray eyes were dark with hunger, chest moving with each intake of breath. Sherlock placed a kiss on her neck, just below her ear, and lingered.

"He feels and sees what I see."

"Oh," she replied softly, realizing what it meant. Benedict ran his thumb over her cheek. Sherlock unwrapped his arms and pulled back just enough that Tabitha couldn't feel his body against hers. He kept his hands on her waist, and pushed her toward Benedict.

The actor raised an eyebrow at his look-a-like as Tabitha's hands come up to his chest as she tripped a bit on her feet. Sherlock stepped close again, smirking.

"If you have sex with her, I want to be there. Physically, although I'm sure I'll feel it mentally."

Benedict's hands touched her elbows, running up her arms until they caressed her neck. Sherlock pressed his erection against her behind and squeezed her hips with his fingers.

"I've never shared a woman before," Benedict murmured. He moved so his body was pressed against her front. Tabitha shuddered at the pressure from the bodies pressed against her front and back. Sherlock watched her, studying her with desire and curiosity. Benedict's eyes were hazy with lust, although he seemed hesitant.

"Now is a great time to start," Tabitha replied without thinking. Benedict smiled at her answer, and Sherlock chuckled in her ear.

"As an experiment," Sherlock countered, raising his eyes back to Benedict's face. He stared until the actor hummed and nodded his agreement. Sherlock suddenly stepped back, causing Tabitha to stumble. Benedict's hands moved fast and caught her around the waist. Their bodies pressed tightly together, and Tabitha involuntarily tilted her head up toward his lips. "Let's take this to the bedroom, shall we?"

"Wait, what about Prescott?" Tabitha stepped back and turned to her fiancé.

"The Doctor is taking care of him. I told him not to worry for the next few hours."


	7. He Does Things His Own Way

**MATURE MATURE MATURE**

_Sexy times! Threesome, Benedict/OC/Sherlock - that's basically the whole chapter. I hope you like it, I have read it a few times just to enjoy it myself ... hehe. Remember to review! I finally have a plot to work with - and it's getting awesome (I'm a few chapters ahead with writing lol) I hope to have one more sexy threesome before the end of this story. Maybe._

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**CHAPTER 7 - He Does Things His Own Way**

Sherlock flashed a grin and stepped around them, leading the way to Benedict's bedroom. Tabitha glanced at the actor, who returned her look with a lustful stare. His mouth turned into a smug grin, and Tabitha saw a new side of him – confident and sensual. Her body shivered with anticipation.

He took her hand, and led her down the hall, following Sherlock. Benedict felt his nerves turn into confidence and sexuality. He knew he was a fantastic lover, and from his dreams there was no way he was going to pass up this unique opportunity. He'd never been one for one-night stands, but this situation was never going to happen again.

He led her into his bedroom, the light dimmed already by Sherlock, who was leaning against the window ledge across the room. His legs were crossed, and his jeans did nothing to hide his excitement. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes made Tabitha almost turn into a puddle. She turned her attention to Benedict, who closed the door behind them. His simple t-shirt and jean combination did the same thing as Sherlock's looks did to her.

"I'd like to watch. Touch her. Pleasure her. I wonder if I can feel her through you while I am awake."

Tabitha's gaze turned to his, a small smile over her lips. He smirked back and sent her a sensual wink. He stayed in his position against the window ledge, and Tabitha turned back to Benedict. He stepped close, towering over her, and she tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. He still seemed hesitant, so Tabitha took the first step – she grabbed him by the shirt on his chest and brought his mouth forcefully down on hers.

She opened her mouth and slid her tongue over his lips, and his large hands immediately found her backside. He pressed her against his hardness through his jeans, lifted her up so her tip-toes barely touched the floor. She countered his jerk by throwing her arms around his broad shoulders, holding on tightly. Tabitha moaned as his teeth scrapped against her lip. He sucked on her lip, and she returned the nip with one of her own.

Their breathing heavy, he pulled her to the edge of the bed, still wrapped around one another, and sat down. She followed his movement and straddled him. He sat gripping her thighs as she pressed her breasts against his cotton-covered chest. Their breath threaded together as they brushed their lips together. Tabitha heard a moan through her hazy mind, and turned her head to look at Sherlock.

"Sherlock? Is this okay?" she breathed, holding tight to Benedict as she searched her fiancé's face.

"Of course," he replied, his voice hoarse. His hands had moved to grip the window ledge on each side of his hips, his knuckles white. His own breathing was heavy, and she saw a slight tremor over his arms. His hair was the only thing that separated him from Benedict in looks.

"You feel all of this," Benedict murmured, brushing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. She tilted her head back with a groan, and her eyes fluttered shut. Benedict pulled her closer by his hands on the back of her thighs. He pressed his bulge against her center.

"All of it," Sherlock answered. Tabitha's eyelids fluttered open, and Sherlock stepped away from the ledge. He moved to where they were seated on the bed, and stood behind her. He began to unbutton his shirt, and Tabitha felt his knuckles brush against her hair at the back of her head when he pulled a button apart. "You don't mind if I join, Benedict?"

All Benedict could do was answer with a mixture of a moan and a hum, because Tabitha had moved her lips to his neck, pressing them softly with small kisses. He tilted his head down so he could capture her mouth against his, softly using his tongue and lips to taste her. Tabitha returned the kiss, but was completely aware of Sherlock's hands coming to the bottom of her shirt. He pulled it roughly up, and she quickly pulled back from Benedict so the shirt could come flying off. It landed somewhere on the other side of the room.

Benedict's eyes fall to her breasts, covered in the yellow lace that had been haunted his fantasies for the past several weeks. Tabitha saw him glance at Sherlock, and then push against her gently. She frowned, moving off of him and standing up. Sherlock immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and she sucked in a breath. His bare chest pressed against her back, with his bulge pressed against the bottom of her back.

"I do enjoy this set of lingerie," Benedict murmured, suddenly in front of her with his shirt off. His jeans were unbuttoned, letting her get a peek at the coarse hair that was found there. Her face was flushed with desire, and she looked up at his face. His hands cupped her breasts, and he stepped close to her, their bodies almost touching.

"I know Sherlock does," she replied breathlessly as he moved his thumbs over the hard peaks under the lace. Her eyes fluttered close as she tilted her head back against Sherlock's shoulder. Benedict kneaded her breasts softly.

Sherlock breathed lightly on her neck as his hands slid down to the waistband of her black yoga pants. She felt her sex quiver as his fingers dipped underneath the band, and her legs pulled apart just enough to let him explore. His fingers stopped just above her cleft. She let out a whimper, and felt Benedict's mouth on the other side of her neck.

"Lean forward a bit, love," Benedict ordered softly, reaching behind Tabitha. She did as he asked, and Benedict unsnapped the bra with swiftness. He pulled back so she could let it fall to the floor, the straps sliding down her arms. Sherlock took the time to step back as well, and push down her pants. Tabitha gasped at the sudden movement, and had to reach up and grip Benedict's bare shoulders to steady herself as she stepped out of the clothing. The men took their time staring at her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. Two of the most beautiful men, who happen to be the same person, were looking at her like they were ready to lick her all over.

"Don't be self-conscious," Sherlock said to her, using his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. She let go of Benedict and followed his movements. She looked up into Sherlock's eyes, and her heart swelled with love. Although Benedict was Sherlock's twin, that was where the similarities had ended.

"I'm not," she replied, more confidently. She reached out behind her, taking Benedict's arm, and pulled him close to her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and his hands found her breasts again. His lips and teeth touched her neck, and he sucked and nipped.

"Good," Sherlock replied, bending down to kiss her roughly. One hand appeared at the back of her neck, pressing her as close as she could get. The other moved immediately between her legs, spreading her center. He slid a finger inside her and she moaned against his tongue. Her hips jerked toward his, and Benedict plucked at her nipples with his fingers. His lips moved to press soft kisses and nips over both her shoulders as Sherlock kissed her.

"More," she gasped, moving her hips so she rubbed herself against Sherlock's finger and Benedict's hardness. Benedict growled and pressed hard against her behind, rubbing in return. Sherlock slid another finger inside her, and moved quickly, thrusting his fingers in and out with fervor. She held onto his shoulders, gasping and bucking. Benedict pinched her nipples harder, and she started to whimper.

"Are you going to come for us?" Benedict breathed into her ear. She whimpered loudly and tilted her head back, turning her head so she could capture his lips in a kiss. He kissed her softly as he continued the assault on her breasts and Sherlock thrust his fingers inside her. She held tightly with one arm around Sherlock's neck and one arm around Benedict's neck, reaching behind her.

"Yes. Please."

"Look at me," Sherlock rasped, holding her head steady with his hand on the back of her neck. Tabitha opened her eyes, staring into Sherlock's darkened ones. The three of them leaned close together, rubbing, thrusting, nipping, and breathing heavily.

"Come all over his hand, Tabitha," Benedict ordered, his voice firm and deep. Tabitha gasped as his teeth bit into the skin at her neck, and Sherlock pressed his forehead against hers. With shudders and a loud cry, she bucked against his hand, holding onto both men tightly. Her eyes squeezed shut, letting the wave of pleasure run over her body. Sherlock slowed his thrusting gradually, until Tabitha's body was limp against the two men. Tabitha sucked in breaths as Benedict's hands moved down to her hips. Sherlock placed a soft closed-mouth kiss against her mouth and pulled back.

"What about you two?" she asked, her voice light and her mind hazy. Sherlock and Benedict glanced at one another, and seemed to share a secret thought. They smiled wickedly.

Benedict pushed her gently toward the bed. Sherlock moved to lay on the bed, his back against the headboard. She hazily realized that his pants were pulled down enough that his manhood was out and being stroked by his hand. She crawled onto the bed, her eyes on his, and stayed on her hands and knees. She moved so her head was above his erection, and turned back to look at Benedict. He was standing still, his hands in his pockets, his face concentrating on her. "Are you going to watch or join?"

All Benedict wanted to do was slide deep inside her, but the fact that there was another man in the room made his nerves come to the surface. When she turned her head back to look at him, the nerves disappeared.

"Don't worry about me," Benedict said, his voice smoky.

Tabitha turned back to Sherlock with a shy smile. Benedict unbuttoned his jeans slowly as Tabitha took Sherlock's shaft into her hands and put her mouth around the tip. He unzipped his jeans, taking time to watch Tabitha's behind in front of him move with every bob of her head. She took Sherlock's member deep into her mouth, and Benedict's hands trembled.

Sherlock watched his fiancé's head dip to take all of him inside, and then pull back up. He growled as his hands slid into her hair, holding the soft, thick tresses to help her move.

"Would you like Ben to pleasure you?" Sherlock's voice made Tabitha shiver in anticipation.

"Yes. Please," she added with a whisper, pulling her mouth away just for a moment. Sherlock caught Benedict's eyes and gave a slight nod. The man had already pushed his jeans down and kicked them away, and was now rolling on a condom. Sherlock turned his eyes to Tabitha, and pulled her head away from his swollen member.

Tabitha moved forward on the bed, with her breasts brushing against Sherlock's cock. He moved his hands down to her cheeks and used his thumb to brush her lips lightly, back and forth. She felt the bed deep behind her, but Sherlock kept her head still as he smiled smugly at her.

"Look at me as he pleasures you," Sherlock ordered in a soft voice. She kept her eyes on his as she nodded her assent.

"You're beautiful," Ben murmured, positioning himself behind Tabitha. His covered member brushed against her center, and she sucked in a breath. His hands moved to her behind, molding the soft skin. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her, and she licked her lips.

"T-thank you," she replied hazily. Sherlock chuckled and moved one hand back to his manhood. He stroked himself with one hand while the other moved up into Tabitha's hair. He gave a discreet nod to Ben, who moved his hands to Tabitha's hips, squeezing tightly. As he rubbed against her wetness, he hummed in appreciation. She opened her mouth slightly, letting a gasp escape, and Sherlock tightened his hold in her hair.

Benedict pressed into her gently, slowly pushing himself inside her. Tabitha whimpered, and Sherlock tightened his grip on himself. Benedict's head fell back, his eyes closing, as he thrust fully inside Tabitha. She let out a soft cry, and he felt her clamp tightly around him. Benedict groaned and pulled out, only to thrust back inside.

"She likes it a bit rough," Sherlock commented, moving his hand faster. Tabitha bent down, and let Sherlock's hand brush against her breasts as he stroked himself.

Benedict chuckled, and thrust harder than before, then pulling back. He thrust into her with continuous movements, making Tabitha hold tightly to the blankets underneath her hands, which were on either side of Sherlock's thighs.

"B-Benedict!"

"Yes, darling," he answered, gasping. Sweat beaded at his brow, and he thrust quicker. He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers finding the little nub above her opening. Sherlock stroked himself in time with Benedict's thrusts. Tabitha groaned and pressed back against Benedict as he rubbed her quickly.

"I'm close," she gasped, looking into Sherlock's eyes. His gaze was hazy, filled with lust, as he brought himself closer and closer to climax. "Sherlock…" Tabitha moaned his name, and his hands stopped.

"Come for him. Let him finish," he breathed, his hands turning to fists on either side of his body.

"You… you need…"

"Come for him, Tabitha," Sherlock ordered, his voice rough and his face hard.

"So close, please," Benedict huffed, thrusting hard.

"Yes…yes!" Tabitha cried, finally clamping around Benedict's thrusting hardness. Benedict bent forward, holding her with his arms around her waist as he moved frantically inside her. His mouth pressed open, hot kisses over the skin of her back as she shuddered. Benedict groaned and gave a final thrust, groaning with his hard release inside of her. She whimpered and gripped Sherlock's thighs as they came down slowly from the explosion. Benedict panted into her back, and she couldn't stop trembling.

"Beautiful," Sherlock growled, removing his hand from her hair. Benedict sat up and slowly pulled himself out of her. He disposed of the condom as Sherlock pulled Tabitha into his arms. She straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Benedict stood for a moment, not sure what to do.

"Come. She likes to be held after sex," Sherlock demanded, his voice hoarse with desire. Benedict decided not to take it personally, and moved to stretch out beside him on the big bed. Sherlock pulled Tabitha from his shoulder, and tilted her head up at the chin with his finger. "My turn."

"Can't wait," she replied with a teasing smile. Sherlock and Tabitha pulled apart, and she moved to straddle Ben, who blinked in confusion. When he opened his mouth to say something, Tabitha placed a finger over his lips as she leaned forward to press her body against his. "Hold me? Please."

"Of course," he replied, forgetting everything he was about to say. She smiled at him, and her gray eyes were shining with anticipation. He smirked back at her, moving his hands to hold her hips. She leaned over him, their noses almost touching, their eyes staring at one another. Sherlock had moved away from the bed, and now come back with his clothing on the ground. He positioned himself behind her, running his hands over her behind. Tabitha pulled in a breath, and Benedict took the opportunity to capture her lips in a kiss. Their tongues dueled – their eyes half-lidded. She moved her hands to his hair, holding on gently as his hands gripped her hips. Their bodies brushed against one another.

Sherlock knew he wouldn't last, so he moved his hand down to brush his fingers against her wet center. He rubbed her bud softly, knowing she may still be sensitive. The flinch, followed by a moan, told him he was right. Sherlock grinned and slid two fingers inside Tabitha, using another to keep rubbing the bud.

"I need you to get close – I won't be able to wait for you," he rasped, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep inside of her. The lustful feelings were sexual, and he acknowledged that the idea of sharing her was a major turn on. The emotional feelings were anything but sexual – the idea of sharing her emotionally wasn't as appealing. He pushed those emotions down – far, far down.

"Sherlock, I need you."

Benedict continued to kiss her, needing to comfort and please her even though he was spent. Sherlock thrust his fingers a few more times, and Tabitha whimpered when he pulled them out. Benedict brushed his lips over hers, squeezing her hips. She arched her back so their bodies pressed together, and Sherlock thrust hard inside her. Benedict caught her lips just as she cried out, and Tabitha held onto his hair tighter.

Benedict growled in content.

Sherlock thrust hard inside her, holding her hips under the spot where Benedict's hands were squeezing. Sherlock's thrusts made Tabitha brush against Benedict with each move, and she started to pant, feeling herself closing in on the final crest once more.

"You look so beautiful when you're about to climax," Benedict complimented, his lips brushing against hers in a rhythm that almost matched Sherlock's thrusts. One of his hands moved up to take her by the back of the neck and hold their foreheads close.

"Sh-sherlock…!" Tabitha groaned, pulling her head back and closing her eyes. Sherlock growled and tightened his hold, moving faster.

"I'm there, follow me, love," he growled, moving hard against her. He thrust once more against her, and they cried out together, Tabitha shuddering and pressing back against him. Sherlock held her close as he pulsed inside of her. They both sucked in breaths as he leaned forward, his arm wrapped around her waist and kissing her back. His other hand held himself up.

"I don't know if I can move," Tabitha panted with a smile, looking down at Benedict. The man's breathing had become a bit harsher, and he was halfway hard beneath her. She raised an eyebrow as Sherlock pulled away, and Benedict shrugged with a grin.

"We can lay here as long as you need," he replied softly, pushing her off of him and to his side. Sherlock disappeared into the bathroom, and Tabitha faced Benedict, both hands between her cheek and the pillow. Benedict propped his head up with one hand, and brushed her cheek with the back of the other one.

"Turn over so I can wash you," Sherlock said, appearing besides the bed. Benedict pulled back quickly, putting some space between their naked bodies. Tabitha let out a light laugh and rolled onto her back. Benedict watched as Sherlock ran the washcloth over her body, making sure his seed was cleaned up. He tossed the rag onto a pile of dirty clothes, and moved onto the bed on the other side of Tabitha. "Did that fix our problem?"

Benedict furrowed his brows, and thought about what he had said.

"Sherlock, we just had amazing sex, and you immediately want to know if it fixed our problem?" Tabitha seemed to take his random thought lightly. Benedict wasn't so sure he could.

"I suppose we should take a moment to reflect," Sherlock answered, laying on his back with one hand underneath his head and the other on his naked stomach. Tabitha laughed and mirrored his pose. Benedict did the same. All three of them stared up at the ceiling with small smiles on their faces. Benedict's head was having different thoughts, though.

He liked Tabitha. She was wonderful. Through Sherlock, he'd gotten to know this woman, and could see a life with her. Hell, an alternative version of him _did_ have a life with her, along with a son. Could he really just forget everything and move on from this?

"Ben, are you okay?" He blinked out of his thoughts and turned his head. Tabitha had rolled over onto her side to face him, propping her head up in her hand. Her curvy body was so close her skin was brushing his arm. Sherlock's head popped up over her shoulder, his hand on her hip and his elbow propping his body up. He's face was devoid of the usual jealousy and annoyance, and was now filled with pure curiosity.

"Yes! Yes, I just… this is an interesting situation," he replied, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. Tabitha snorted and laid a hand over the one on his stomach.

"I know," she agreed, her voice changing to quiet empathy. "Trust me, the best way to deal with weirdness and this kind of situation is to get it all in the open."

"Have you been with two men at once?" Sherlock asked, turning his head slightly to her. She frowned and looked at him. "You said that you know all about this situation."

"I meant that I've learned that whenever there is an… interesting situation, it makes it a lot easier to handle of you just get all your thoughts out in the open."

"So you haven't been with two men before."

"No!"

Sherlock just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Benedict had to smile at their interaction – it was obvious they fit perfectly together. His confusion slowly turned into relaxation. Everything was the way it should be – these two people were supposed to be together – how else could Tabitha travel to a different universe?

"You're right. I've never had this type of… relationship before. That's all. I mean, it's not really a relationship, is it?" He said, feeling his voice turn lighter with his thoughts.

"Exactly! Sex does not mean emotional ties." Sherlock agreed, grinning when he realized that Benedict understood. He jumped out of bed and started to get dressed. Tabitha glanced at her fiancé and winked at Benedict.

"That's not exactly what he means, but close enough for you," she chuckled to Sherlock, pulling away from Benedict. They both sat up, and Benedict touched her arm. She turned toward him.

"I like you…"

"I know. You like what you've seen through Sherlock."

"I've never thought of it that way," Benedict answered, going over what she had just said in his mind. It was true – he hadn't spent a lot of real time with her. The only things he knew about her he'd learned in the last two days and through his dreams. Not something to base a relationship on. His anxiety continued to lift, and he smiled. "Besides, you fit with Sherlock. You and I wouldn't be able to get along that well."

"Probably not!" she laughed, jumping out of bed herself. She pulled on her clothing, and Benedict followed her lead. Sherlock was dressed by the time they were halfway done, and let himself out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him.

"The first time… no, wait, the second time… well, one of those times, Sherlock just left the door open, and John walked into the flat just as we were done," Tabitha told him as she pulled her shirt over her head, now fully dressed.

"How awkward," Benedict replied with a cheesy grin, buttoning his jeans. He pulled on his shirt and turned to see her standing with her arms over her chest. She was watching him with a satisfied look on her face. Benedict took manly pride in knowing that he had contributed to that.

"He does things his own way." Tabitha rolled her eyes.

**PLEASE REVIEWWWWWW!**


	8. 10th Time's The Charm

_This is where the big plot starts happening. There will be a Benedict/Sherlock/OC sex scene where the guys are involved - I just have to work out the details of how it starts. ummm that's it :) school has been kicking my ass, and i have less classes than I did last semester. Oi. Please review!_

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**CHAPTER 8 - 10th Time's The Charm**

The Doctor and Prescott were having a conversation.

"I know it's confusing with the whole Two Daddies thing, but I the dark-haired one is really your Dad."

Prescott babbled at the Doctor, looking up at him from the arms that were around his body. The Doctor was seated in a room in the TARDIS in front of a fireplace, rocking back and forth on a plush rocker. Prescott sucked on one of his plastic keys.

"The other one is a lot nicer, I get that, but Sherlock – Daddy – is still learning how to be nice."

Prescott flung the toy on the ground and flopped his hands up and down. The Doctor smiled reassuringly at the infant and let the baby grip a finger with his fist.

"They'll be back soon! I promise. Daddy and Mummy needed some alone time."

Prescott started to drool and mumble.

"Feel funny?" The Doctor pulled back his hand and touched Prescott's forehead. "Does it hurt here?" He moved his finger to the baby's stomach. "Here?" Prescott kicked in return. "Oh, you're probably hungry! I'm sure Mummy left something for you!"

The Doctor stood up, got a bottle out of the refrigerator that was in the corner, and walked around the room, trying to remember where he put the warmer. He found it stashed on top of a pile of books. Awkwardly plugging it in, he got the bottle warming.

Prescott started to whimper, and the Doctor frowned at him.

"What's wrong with the TARDIS?"

The infant squirmed in his arms and babbled sadly. The Doctor sighed, not liking what he heard. He hummed in thought as he pulled the bottle out of the warmer and tested it on his wrist. Perfect.

"Here, little one, this will make your tummy feel better," the Doctor murmured, putting the nipple of the bottle by Prescott's mouth. The baby grabbed tightly and began to suck, keeping his eyes on the man's face above him. The Doctor held the bottle while he walked toward the console room. As he walked down the steps, he noticed the color of the light in the middle of the room liked more green than it should be.

"Prescott said you are changing. What does that mean?" the Doctor said, looking up at the ceiling while leaning against the side of the console. As he held the distracted child, the Doctor frowned. He scanned the room, and jumped when the TARDIS started to hum loudly. "What is it?"

Prescott had finished his meal and started to squirm in the Doctor's arms.

"Oh. Oh! No, no, we can't leave Tabitha and Sherlock here! Especially since I have Prescott!"

"I should hope not!" Sherlock's voice made the Doctor jump.

The Doctor turned around as he put the baby's head to his shoulder and placed the bottle on the seat of the chair near the console. He rubbed his back lightly. Sherlock and Tabitha both looked around, confused. He took in their appearance – messy hair, wrinkled clothing, and their flushed faces. He felt his own face flush as he realized what had happened.

"What's going on?" Tabitha asked, running a hand through her messy curls and clearing her throat at the look the Doctor was giving them. She bit her lip and made her way awkwardly toward the console, her flats making no sound on the floor. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at the Doctor and followed his fiancée. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, not seeming to notice that his shirt was untucked.

"How is my son?" Sherlock asked, his voice showing that he was truly interested. He turned toward the Doctor and moved toward him.

"He's brilliant," the Doctor said, a smile on his face as Sherlock took the infant and held him in his arms. His mouth turned into a smirk as he touched his son's little fist lovingly. Tabitha moved over to murmur things to Prescott as the Doctor turned his attention to the console with a frown. "Prescott seems to think the TARDIS is trying to go back to our universe, but still can't quite make the connection."

"The TARDIS should stay here until it can go back to our home without any trouble. It could be a terrible misfortune if we go before that time," Sherlock stated, his eyes studying the way his son stared up at him. Their eyes were locked, as if they were sharing a silent conversation. Tabitha raised her eyebrow at them and stepped back. If it was anyone other than Sherlock, she'd think he'd never seen a newborn before. However, she knew that he was just observing the child's reactions to certain movements. Sherlock moved his finger in front of Prescott's eyes, and the baby's blue irises followed the finger.

"Sherlock, he's not your experiment," Tabitha huffed, folding her arms over her chest. Sherlock waved her comment away and turned back to his son, continuing his small experiment. Tabitha chuckled and moved to stand beside the doctor. She placed her hands on the console, studying the way the light in the center look green, like it was sick. "You're still sick. Please don't work yourself too hard."

The TARDIS responded to her concern by slowing down the loud humming to a light whir. Tabitha smiled and patted that console. The TARDIS purred a bit, then sputtered, but her light turned more blue-ish yellow.

"She seems to like you more than me," the Doctor said, jealousy in his voice. He moved over the console, looking at readings and other things as he moved around in a circle. Tabitha rolled her eyes and yawned as exhausted hit her suddenly.

"It still baffles me that this police box is a living creature," Sherlock murmured, walking over and handing Prescott to Tabitha. She held him close, kissing his soft head. He snuggled against her. Sherlock looked up, where the light touched the domed ceiling, his hands crossed over his chest. "Can we see what John is doing?"

"Of course!" the Doctor answered just as the screen turned on. Everyone let out a surprised noise, excluding the baby, when they saw John and Mary naked in bed. They were wrapped around each other. "Hey, you need to stop doing that! It's private!" the Doctor called out in embarrassment, reaching out quickly to shut it off.

"Oh, god," Tabitha muttered, turning her back and trying to control flustered giggles coming from her mouth. She bounced Prescott as he dozed on her shoulder, and bit her cheek.

"Was… was that my room?" Sherlock looked confused, and looked off into the distance as he put two and two together. "Bloody hell, that _was_ my room! Rude." He scoffed and mumbled to himself with irritation.

"I hope they realize that Prescott was conceived in that bed," Tabitha squeaked. She burst into laughter, coughing to try and cover it up, placing her hand over her mouth. She moved to Sherlock's side and bumped her shoulder to his arm. He smirked down at her.

"Can we please change the subject?" the Doctor interrupted, his face red.

"Of course. Now what?" Sherlock answered, already done with the topic. He turned and leaned against the console with his hip. The Doctor made his way around the console some more, studying. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at him. "You've looked it over nine times, what makes the tenth different?

"Everything," the Doctor murmured, stopping on the opposite side of where Sherlock and Tabitha stood. He leaned forward, close to the top of the console nearest to the light. He squinted, and then jumped back with a huge grin on his face. Tabitha and Sherlock shared an amused look as the Doctor ran over to the stairs, and disappeared in the hallway.

"I wonder what he's up to?" she murmured. She yawned again. "I'm exhausted."

"As you should be," Sherlock grinned, reaching out and pulling her back against his front. He bent and nibbled her ear. Tabitha hummed softly and tilted her head back to expose more skin. Sherlock kissed his way lightly down her neck, then pulled back with a chuckle. Tabitha frowned and shot him a glare. "Why don't you put Prescott down for a rest and take a nap yourself? When you wake up, I'll be sure to have the TARDIS make something for you to eat."

"Why don't you make something?" Tabitha and Prescott made their way to the stairway with Sherlock at her side. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face one another. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at the comment.

"Cooking isn't an important skill when there are other ways to get food." He kissed Prescott's head and turned his lips to Tabitha's mouth. He kissed her softly, raising his hands to her cheeks. "The experiment with the actor was successful, I think."

"How so?" Tabitha murmured, brushing her lips against his again.

"I know that I am the one you want to share your life with."

"Good," she replied with a smile. Sherlock smirked back, kissing her once more. "I love you. Have a good rest, darling."

"I love you, too." Tabitha was a bit put off by the words, but just smiled back at him before she went up the stairs and down the hallway to the room the TARDIS made for them. She glanced around for the Doctor, but she couldn't see where he went.

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The Doctor went to a room far down the corridor. The metal door that blocked his path was dark. If you didn't have Gallifrayan eyes, you wouldn't be able to see the outline at all. He let out a long breath, knowing that there could be major repercussions if this wasn't handle correctly. He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and jumped a bit on his heels. He shook his hands next to his sides and shook his head hard to clear out the negative thoughts. This door only opened for positive thoughts.

If he got the door open, he would in the heart of the TARDIS. Not the light, not the vortex, not the big ball of gas that was in the center. The heart. The true, real, human heart of the TARDIS. It was broken. He needed to know why and it needed to be healed before they could go anywhere.

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Sherlock watched his fiancée and son make their way out of sight. His body, which had been standing tall and arrogant as always, suddenly drooped. He felt dizzy, although he had no idea why. He took in deep breaths as he stumbled toward the blue door. The TARDIS suddenly became blurry, and a blasting headache hit him. He groaned, and knew he had to get out of the TARDIS. He felt the walls closing in, felt his chest tightening, as if something was heavy on it. Was he having a heart attack?

He burst through the blue door, shutting it roughly behind him. He stumbled toward the deck stairs, falling forward and catching himself on the top one. He sat down and places his arms on his knees, leaning forward. He gulped in air, and felt his head clearing.

Sherlock put his hands in his hair as he did his best to concentrate on the symptoms of the sudden attack. He shut his eyes tight and pursed his lips. He heard, in the distance, the sliding glass door pool open, but he quickly shut it out.

Panic attack? No, he didn't feel anxiety.

Physical illness? He quickly went through his physical body, noting anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

Mental illness? He made his way through his mind palace, but everything seemed right where he had left it. With a frown, he turned a corner to where his front door should be, but instead there was a black door next to it. He furrowed his brows, noticing that it was just a slab of black, no texture, no handle, no lock. He hadn't put it there. Where had it come from?

He sucked in a breath as he saw light beginning to glow around the edges. It got brighter and brighter, until the only thing he could see was the dark door and the light around it. He gasped as the rays reached out to him, as if to claim his mind and body. He took a step back, and then slammed back into the real world.

"Hey, are you alright?" Benedict's voice was muffled, but Sherlock found himself falling to reality rather quickly. He was breathing heavily, sweating.

"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse as if he'd been screaming. He frowned. "Was I… screaming?"

"No, but you looked like you were in pain," his look-a-like answered, sitting next to him. The man was still in his jeans and t-shirt, barefoot. His ginger hair had been brushed and styled with gel so it looked tamed. He turned his gaze away from Sherlock towards the TARDIS. "It seems as if she is sounding… better. I think."

"Yes, it would seem so," Sherlock murmured, trying to gather his thoughts still. Suddenly, the TARDIS disappeared.

The two men stared, mouth dropping in shock.

"Tabitha!" Sherlock shouted, jumping up. His legs gave out and he fell toward the sand at the bottom of the stairs. Benedict caught him, but Sherlock pulled himself way with a jerk. "Where did they go? Where is she?" He looked around frantically, and ran over to the spot where TARDIS had been. Benedict look like he had no idea how to handle this, but wanted to do something.

"I'm sure everything is fine! The TARDIS just… just…" Benedict struggled with words as he saw Sherlock turning in circles with a panicked look on his face. All he could do was stand there, his bare feet buried in the sand, his fists clenched at his sides.

"No, everything is not fine, you idiot! My son and… and… partner is _gone_. Gone!" Sherlock growled and kicked angrily at the sand. Benedict clenched his jaw, feeling Sherlock's crushing grief and worry through his body. It seemed that they only felt the same thing when it was overwhelming.

"Sherlock, I'm sure there are fine. They are with the Doctor – he'd never let anything happen to them." Benedict moved slowly beside the seething detective. The man ran his hands through his hair and growled again. Benedict clamped a hand on his shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

"What if they're gone? Forever?" Sherlock croaked, letting a very rare emotion on his face. Fear.

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	9. Red Foggy Haze

_I'm starting to write the smut scene with Benedict and Tabitha... which may or may not include Benedict/Sherlock. I'm still trying to decide at the moment... I hope you like this chapter! Remember to review!_

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**CHAPTER 9 - Red Foggy Haze**

The Doctor placed the palm of his hands against the dark metal door. He closed his eyes and focused on good thoughts – the time he spent with all his companions, his special connection with Rose, with River, and how beautiful it was to know that Rory and Amy would always be together. He thought Clara and the sassy way she spoke to him. He remembered the good times on Gallifrey. Tears burned behind his eyelids, but he kept them tightly shut as he pushed away at the bad things and accepted the good things.

The tears began to leak, and he pressed his palms harder against the door. Light began to burn around the edges, tendrils sneaking out. He choked on a sob and pushed harder. The cried out in frustration as the light escalated, turning the dark hallway into light. The door and light was all around him, and his palms burned. He tried his best to keep the thoughts positive, but one memory slammed into him harder than anything.

Amy, his best friend, disappearing in front of him, lost forever.

Suddenly, the white light turned to red, and pain crushed against his chest as he felt himself being reeled in by the red tendrils. The door opened and red light gushed out to encompass his body. He knew then that he had failed, and they were all in trouble.

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Tabitha yawned and stretched, then frowned as she realized how cold it was. She opened her eyes, squinting in the darkness. She blinked for a few moments, waiting for her eyes to clear better in the dark. She heard Prescott rustling in his playard next to the bed. Tabitha shivered and ran her hands up and down her bare arms. She had changed into short cotton shorts and one of Sherlock's sleep t-shirts. She heard a whimper, and realized that Prescott would probably be as cold, if not worse, than she was.

"Aww, I'm sure everything is fine," she cooed in the dark, getting out of bed and moving toward the outline of the playard. "TARDIS, can we get some lights, please?" she said, staying the urge to keep her voice quiet. Nothing happened. "TARDIS?"

Prescott started to cry, and Tabitha turned her attention to him. She reached down and picked him up, cooing into his hair and holding him close so his cries would calm down. They turned to whimpers, but he kept making the sad sounds as she changed him and put on warmer clothing – a long sleeved shirt and thick pants that covered his little feet.

"I take it that you're crying over the TARDIS, huh?" Tabitha murmured, looking worriedly down at her son. She picked him up again and held him close to her breasts. He snuggled close, as if he was hiding against her. What was wrong? She slowly made her way to the door, not wanting to run into anything that may have appeared earlier. "Doctor?"

She opened the door and swallowed at what she saw.

The light from the console room had turned a deep red, and the hallway seemed to be filled with red fog at her feet. Something was definitely wrong. Prescott let out a cry again.

"Shh, let's stay in here for a while, yes?"

She backed back into the bedroom, shutting and locking the door. The fog seemed to stay out of her room. Sherlock – where was Sherlock? She felt her chest squeeze, and let out a whimper of her own.

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After nearly an hour of wondering around the private beach that was his backyard at the moment, Sherlock and Benedict didn't find anything that told them where the TARDIS, the Doctor, or Tabitha and her son had gone. Sherlock mumbled to himself angrily, and paced frantically in Benedict's living room. The actor watched him, feeling worry and panic himself. He cared about Tabitha, and it wasn't just because he felt Sherlock's emotions. Prescott had half of his DNA.

"Sherlock! This is not helping!" Benedict huffed, moving to standing front of his twin. Sherlock made to step around him, snarling a curse, but Benedict wouldn't have it. He shoved Sherlock against the wall, his fists holding tightly to the man's shirt. They stared angrily into each other's eyes, both of their breathing heavy with anger and concern for the child and Tabitha. After a moment, Sherlock seemed to calm down. "Are you finished?" Benedict asked.

"Yes," Sherlock answered, his jaw clenched. His eyes returned to their normal piercing gaze, and Benedict stepped back. Sherlock straightened his shirt, avoiding the other man's eyes. "I have the Doctor's number in my phone. Shall we see if it works here?"

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His body couldn't move, but his mind was in overdrive. The Doctor tried to stand up, but it was like the air was too heavy for him to even open his eyes. He laid sprawled out on his back and he felt wisps of finger-like touches all over his body. He grunted with effort as he rolled himself over onto his stomach, sweating from excursion.

"Blind? Am I blind?"

He squinted just enough to see that he wasn't blind, and then opened his eyes fully. The gravity of wherever he had ended up was pressing him flat on the floor. The room was bathed in red light, and the red fog was rolling over and around his body. The room was empty of everything but fog. He tried to push himself up on his hands and knees, but it didn't work.

"If I could just get my sonic…" Even speaking took effort and left him breathless. It seemed to take ages to reach down into his pants pocket to retrieve the sonic device. He grunted as he pulled it up in front of his face. He sprawled out again, on his stomach this time, because it seemed to lift the weight off his body a little bit. He took a moment to catch his breath, and then pressed the button on the screwdriver.

The light was red. He frowned, trying to remember why the light looked familiar. He heard footsteps coming from his side, and he slowly turned his head. His breathing turned heavy with panic as he realized where he was.

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Tabitha was relieved that the bedroom was stocked with supplies to take care of Prescott, but she was getting hungry. There were little snacks for Prescott – small vegetable crackers – and she gave in to nibbling on them. She hummed with surprise when they didn't taste as bad as she thought. Prescott was in his playard, on his back, playing with the few toys that littered the bottom. He seemed especially enthralled with the worm that glowed when he squeezed it.

The darkness of the room didn't seem to bother him, but it bothered Tabitha. What was going on? The TARDIS wasn't making any noise, the room was chilly, and the red lights and fog out in the rest of the TARDIS was especially peculiar. She laid down on the bed, on her stomach with her head to the side on her hands, as she thought things through.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

She frowned, and lifted her head.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

After a few moments, she pinpointed where the light beeping sound was coming from. Beneath the bed, her mobile phone was making the noise. Gasping with optimism, she moved to lean over the side of the bed, her body still on the mattress, and reached to retrieve the phone. Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she lifted the screen in front of her face.

**5 Messages**

How in the world was it working here? Not caring the reason, she was relieved beyond belief that her fiancé was in contact with her.

_What happened? – SH_

_Where are you? – SH_

_Is Prescott injured? – SH_

_Tell me what you see. – SH_

_I'll figure this out. I promise. – SH_

Tabitha felt tears in her eyes and a big lump in her throat. Sniffling, she dialed Sherlock's number with shaking hands. Prescott gurgled happily in his playard. After two rings, the voice that answered filled Tabitha with such relief that her whole body drooped on the bed.

"Tabitha! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where is Prescott? Tell me what happened. What do – ?"

"Sherlock," she interrupted, her voice cracking as she held back sobs. She sniffled and waited for him to become silent. "We are okay. I don't know what happened." She sucked in a breath to calm herself so she could speak clearly.

"The TARDIS disappeared with no warning." His usually calm voice sounded a bit frantic. She heard mumbling. "Benedict and I have been looking for clues, but we haven't found anything. Not a damn thing!" The last words were thrown out with frustration.

"So… what's the plan?"

"I need to think," he replied. "Right after you and the Doctor left the console room, I felt ill. Did you notice anything odd?"

"Ill? What kind of ill?"

"Dizziness, headache, symptoms similar to a panic attack," he replied. He hummed thoughtfully. Suddenly, he cried out, "The door!"

Tabitha frowned, confused.

"Sherlock… what door? Sherlock?" There was silence, and Tabitha jerked up right to sit on the bed. Panic flooded her chest until she heard Sherlock finally reply.

"There was a door in my mind palace that I didn't put there. I wonder if the TARDIS put it there – as a message!" He sounded excited, too excited for the situation. Tabitha sighed and smiled softly – just like her Sherlock.

"I love you," she said. Sherlock stopped mumbling to himself, and she heard him breathing on the other end. "Sherlock?"

"I promise I will find you, Tabitha," he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. "I promise I will always protect you and Prescott. Always."

"I know," she replied, the lump back in her throat. "Be careful. There's something wrong with the TARDIS."

"Tell me every little detail, darling."

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Benedict watched as Sherlock put the phone on speaker and sat it on the counter. They sat side by side on stools as they listen to Tabitha explain in detail what was going on with the TARDIS. It wasn't much to go on, but it was even odder than what had happened to Sherlock.

"Does the red fog seem dangerous?" he interrupted, concerned.

"No. It seems my room is… protected. No fog or even red light has entered the room. I've kept the door closed and locked since I opened it earlier."

"I need more information," Sherlock mumbled, his hands touching his chin. His mind was obviously calculating and filing every piece of information that Tabitha had explained.

"This isn't one of your cases. This has to do with the Doctor, with alien technology and maybe even mystical subjects," Benedict said. He brought his hands up to his temple, gently trying to massage the headache away. Sherlock ignored his comment, and Benedict huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Tabitha? It seems you may have to go out into the corridor. For more information."

"No!"

"Sherlock, this may be the only way to get more information."

"He's right…" Tabitha sounded like she didn't like the idea, but had already accepted that it had to be done. "I don't want to leave Prescott alone, but I don't want to take him into the hallway with me."

"He'd be safer with you in the corridor than in the bedroom alone," the actor said softly.

"Agreed," Sherlock said with an intake of breath. "You're capable of doing this, love. You're capable of keeping our son safe."

Benedict glanced at Sherlock with a raise of his eyebrows. This man knew how to dazzle a woman with his words, didn't he?

"Of course I am, Sherlock," she replied with irritation in her voice. Benedict smiled. "Should I stay on the phone or conserve the battery life?"

"Stay on the phone –"

"Conserve the battery life," Benedict interrupted, elbowing Sherlock. The man sent him a death glare, but Benedict ignored it. He picked up the phone, turned the speaker off, and put the device to his ear. Sherlock continued to send daggers with his eyes, but let Benedict speak to Tabitha. "Everything will be fine, love. I promise. Okay, I can't promise that, but I'll try my best. Okay, speak to you in fifteen minutes."

He hung up the phone and placed it on the counter in front of the duo.

"What did she say?" Sherlock stood up from the stool and moved to plop into a cushioned chair next to the window. Benedict followed and sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped at his chin.

"To make sure you don't get into trouble."

"You don't make promises you can't keep."

"Never."

Sherlock didn't respond. He stared out the sliding glass doors, watching the waves crash on the beach a little ways away from the deck. Benedict kept silent – he knew that Sherlock was processing thoughts and facts. He laid back on the couch, going over the information himself. The Doctor had done something. Sherlock had mentioned a door in his mind palace – maybe he could go back and see what was behind that door.

After over thirty minutes of silence, Benedict was about to doze off when Sherlock's voice made him jerk and sit up.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

"What?" he replied, frowning. He wasn't sure what Sherlock meant or who Sherlock meant. Sherlock's eyes were still glued to the glass door, his position the same as before – ankle on his knee, leaning back, his fingers pressed together under his chin, his eyes narrowed with thought. Benedict stretched.

"Do. You. Have. Feelings. For. Her."

"Who?" It took Ben a few moments to get the cobwebs out of his mind, to remember all that had happened in the last day. He answered honestly. "Oh. I – I don't know. Obviously, I feel your emotions."

"By that logic, you do have feelings for her."

"Aren't we supposed to be finding Tabitha and your son?" Benedict didn't want to deal with this right now. Whatever he was feeling wasn't his feelings – it was Sherlock's feelings. The worry, lust, and love he had been dealing with for the past 24 hours had nothing to do with his_ own_ feelings. They had been shoved on him. He stood up and stalked to the bathroom.

Sherlock heard the man stalk to the bathroom, and furrowed his brows. It seemed that this man didn't want these feelings – didn't want to feel the way he did for Tabitha. He could certainly understand the issue – he had felt the exact same way when he had first met her. On the other hand, Benedict most likely was feeling his emotions rather than his own.

"Exactly," he mumbled to himself. He stared down at the mobile on his leg. Tabitha had texted him a few minutes ago.

_It's the same as before. I walked up down the hall and into the console room. Everything is the same, except the dull red light and the red fog swirling on the floor. It doesn't seem dangerous to me, but Prescott seemed uncomfortable outside the room. – TH_

_Have you seen the Doctor? – SH_

_No. – TH_

After that, he had convinced Tabitha to go back to her room, which was just as she had left it, and stay there until he contacted her again. The only thing he could think to do next was go into his mind palace. He knew all this had something to do with the unknown door. Who had put it there, and why? He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shutting his eyes. He'd kill for a cigarette, right now.

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"You shouldn't have opened that door, Doctor."

The Doctor growled, struggling to push himself off the floor, holding tightly to his sonic screwdriver. Red fog brushed his skin, making him shiver with apprehension. The room was bathed in a red glow, still, and it made his skin have a red glow. The person beside him watched with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his lips. The Doctor felt some of the weight lift off his body, and he finally was able to push himself up on his hands and knees. He tilted his head back to look into the person's eyes.

"I had no choice." The Doctor sucked in a few breaths and pushed himself up more, finally standing up right. He blew out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and wiped sweat off his brow. He straightened his white vest and black t-shirt. The man wrinkled his noise at him.

"You look like a teenage hipster," the man said to him, looking disgusted. The Doctor held the sonic tightly as the man circled him slowly, studying each other intently. This went on for some time, the staring and circling. Finally, the man stopped and stepped close. The Doctor kept his face passive as the man moved toe to toe with him, their faces inches apart.

"You don't belong here," the Doctor said in a low threatening voice. The man smiled and chuckled an evil laugh.

"I've always been here." The man winked and made his way toward the dark metal door across the room. The Doctor started to panic – if this man left, he'd be trapped in here forever. The man would take over his place in the world.

The Doctor lunched himself at the man, jumping on his back, knocking him down. The two men grappled and grunted, rolling, throwing punches. The other man laughed maniacally as he pinned the Doctor down, the fog rolling over their bodies with light touches. The Doctor struggled to get up, but the man trapped him on the floor with his hands and legs.

"Now I am free," he whispered, leaning down to the Doctor's ear. He moved back to stare into the Doctor's eyes and suddenly the Doctor's vision went dark.

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	10. The Suited Doctor

_Think of the Suited Doctor as a James Bond villian version of Matt Smith, yes? Please review!_

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**CHAPTER 10 - The Suited Doctor**

Tabitha must have dozed off, because Prescott's crying made her sit up fast. The bedroom was lighter, and she felt her chest squeeze as she saw that the light was tented red. It wasn't as obvious as the rest of the TARDIS she had seen, but it was clear that it was making its way through the door somehow.

"Shh, sweetheart, Mommy's here," Tabitha murmured, getting out of the bed and leaning over the playard to pick up the infant. The baby's cries turned to whimpers as he snuggled against her chest. Her eyes went toward the door, and her body started to shake as she saw light wisps of the red fog sneaking under the doorway. Tabitha focused on keeping her breathing calm as she changed Prescott – she didn't want him to be more scared than he was.

The baby seemed in distress, but Tabitha knew it wasn't food or tiredness – he was frightened. The TARDIS must be speaking to him, but she had no way of knowing what it was saying. She finished changing the baby and pulled him close to her chest, his head on her shoulder. He stretched his limbs, and then started to doze off as she quickly went to the nightstand beside the bed and picked up the smartphone. Sherlock said he'd call her when he got more information, but that had only been twenty minutes ago. Huffing with frustration, Tabitha packed some necessities – diapers, formula, bottles, some snacks, and a few other things – in the diaper bag, put it on her shoulder, and walked to the door. She bounced Prescott lightly, trying to keep him sleeping, as her heart rate increased. She stared at the door, and trembled with fear as the red tendrils became denser.

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Sherlock felt the physical world around him fade as his mind palace materialized around him. He was just inside the main door, and the palace looked just as he had made it – a huge entrance, then six corridors leading in different directions. He looked at the entrance of each hallway from his spot, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Where had the dark door been? He whipped his head to the corridor that lead to "Personal" information.

This corridor was denser with information than most people thought it would have. It had information on everyone he considered important. Although the list was small, he kept all the small details, just in case he needed it to protect himself or the people he deemed important. With sure steps, he walked to the entrance, going through the doorway, and felt the hallway close off behind him. He frowned, knowing that he had not willed it to shut. Who was controlling his mind palace?

Irritation slid into his veins as he continued his journey down the corridor. It was a simple white hall, with numbered white doors lining the corridor. He walked slowly, eyeing each door with an observing eye. He stopped at number 11. The door didn't fit at all with his décor. It was dark metal, no handles and no frame. It was as if the metal had melded to the white wall perfectly. The number '11' was indented at the top, in the middle.

"_Who are you?!_" Sherlock shouted, looking up and down the hall. When no one answered him, he growled and put his palms against the metal door. The anger was easy to see on his face, and the room seemed heavy with… amusement? He had no idea how a hallway could be amused, but it fueled his anger even more. "This is my mind – you have no right to be here. Tell me what you want!"

He clenched his jaw and he moved his hands to run his fingers over the seam that was entirely seamless. Suddenly, the door began to rise, and Sherlock jumped back, his body ready to fight if need be. When the door was fully opened, Sherlock knew immediately that the man in front of him wasn't who he seemed to be.

"The TARDIS has connected to my mind, I see," he commented, feeling relieved that he finally knew where the door had come from. What made him uneasy, though, was the two men in the hazy, red room. There was another door on the opposite wall, which he concluded would lead to the part of the TARDIS that was sick.

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"Sherlock?" Benedict watched him intently from his spot on the couch. When Sherlock didn't answer, he stood up and walked over to the man that was sitting still in the plush chair. His eyes was closed, and he seemed to be meditating in a way. Benedict knew he had gone to his 'mind palace', but wasn't sure why he looked in distress. What was happening? He moved beside the chair and touched Sherlock's shoulder lightly. The man didn't move, but his face turned from distress to anger.

"Sherlock," Benedict said, trying again, putting his hand fully on the man's shoulder and squeezing. Sherlock's shoulder twitched, throwing Benedict's hand off.

"Don't interrupt me. I'm conversing with the person who is the cause of all this."

"Okay…." Benedict answered, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock had said the words in a low voice, but his body didn't move a bit as he said it. Benedict huffed out a breath as he went into the kitchen to grab his iPad that was charging on the counter. He unlocked it and turned around to find Sherlock charging out the door. "Wait, what's going on?"

He hadn't even heard Sherlock get out of the chair! The actor hurried behind the detective and raced down the deck stairs onto the sandy beach. Sherlock turned around a rock, out of sight, and Benedict jogged the same way, coming to a screeching halt to keep from running to Sherlock's back.

"Well," he commented, not sure what else to say as he looked at what was in front of them. He ran a hand nervously through his hair as two Doctor's stared back at them. They looked identical, except for the clothing. The Doctor he figured was their Doctor was wearing the same clothing as before, while the other one seemed to stand a bit straighter in his black suit. He had on a skinny black tie and a white dress shirt underneath the suit jacket.

The TARDIS was behind them, but half of it was a perfect blue, while the other half was a perfect red.

"Where's Tabitha and my son?" Sherlock asked, using his voice to throw out a silent threat.

"Safely on the TARDIS," the suited Doctor answered politely with a smirk. He put his hands in his suit pants pockets. The normal Doctor behind him looked like he wanted to speak, but he didn't open his mouth. Benedict felt anger curse through his veins.

"What's going on, Doctor?" He directed it to both of them. The normal Doctor seemed to struggle to say something, and the suited Doctor laughed maniacally as he snapped his fingers. The normal Doctor opened his mouth wide and rubbed his jaw.

"It seems when we went through the void my soul was… well, split in half," the normal Doctor said, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He turned to his other half, who seemed amused at the whole situation. "I haven't figured out how to put us back together."

"Why would I let you do that?" the suited Doctor chuckled. He brought out a sonic screwdriver, identical to the normal Doctor's sonic.

"I don't care what you do, give me my family. _Now_." Sherlock looked ready to pounce, but smartly decided against it. Benedict stood next to the seething Sherlock, feeling the mixture of anger from Sherlock and himself twine together tightly. Their fists balled next to their thighs, and the normal Doctor jerked his head to signal what he wanted them to do. Sherlock moved slowly, and the three men surrounded the suited Doctor in a triangle of sorts.

"What do I get in return?" the suited Doctor said, studying his sonic lazily. Sherlock growled and pounced, his control snapping. The suited Doctor grunted as Sherlock knocked him to the ground.

"Sherlock!" Benedict and the normal Doctor shouted. The TARDIS started to hum loudly, seeming to try to put everything back together. Sherlock punched the suited Doctor in the face, then the suited Doctor punched him in the jaw. He grunted, and the suited Doctor pulled him up to a standing position in front of them. Sherlock struggled to pull away, but the suited Doctor held tightly, his face close to his. Benedict and the normal Doctor stayed where they were, Benedict being unsure of what he could do to help. The normal Doctor was quickly running through their options. How could he fix this?

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"The only thing I want is to take the TARDIS and have my own life," the suited Doctor growled. Sherlock struggled against his hold, and the suited Doctor pushed him away. Sherlock stumbled a bit, but righted himself quickly. The three men surrounded the evil Doctor once more. Benedict glanced at the TARDIS, and saw that it was quickly turned red. The blue side was getting smaller with each passing moment. Panic spread through his chest, and he jerked his head to Sherlock. The other man seemed to notice the issue, and sprinted toward the one blue TARDIS door – the only blue left.

"You are not taking my TARDIS!" the normal Doctor screamed, jumping between the red and blue box and the suited Doctor. Sherlock pulled at the hand, but the door didn't budge. Benedict joined him, and banged on the door with his fist so hard that he was sure it would be bruised.

"Tabitha!" both men cried out, pulling and banging on the blue door.

"I think you need to step away." The suited Doctor shoved the normal Doctor hard in the chest. The normal Doctor shoved back, and a grapple started between the two of them. While they were distracted, Benedict and Sherlock heard something from the other side of the door. A muffled voice.

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Tabitha held Prescott close and ran down the corridor. She hurried down the stairs, not stopping when she dropped an empty bottle. She had more in her bag, and she didn't want to stop for anything. Prescott was crying, a soft sobbing, and Tabitha had tears in her own eyes.

The console room seemed to be pulsing with red light. Light fog was rolling over the floor, a red hue just like everywhere else in the TARDIS. She hurried around the middle part, her heart thumping, but stopped when she saw a single blue button on the red console. Her breath caught as she reached out to touch it. Prescott stopped crying just as she touched it, and she felt warmth spread through her body. The TARDIS hummed, a noise that Tabitha thought she'd never hear again.

"Come on, baby, you can do it! Come back to us!" Tabitha cried. She was just about to press the button when the humming came to came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, a spark shot from the blue button, shocking Tabitha and making her jump back. Prescott started crying again, and the button turned red. She heard the TARDIS start up again, only a deeper, more menacing hum. Tabitha gulp back tears. "You have to fight! Please, don't leave us!"

"Tabitha!"

"Benedict!" she cried, turning toward the door of the TARDIS. She saw that one door was blue, the only blue left what she could see of the TARDIS. She knew it was her way out, and she rushed forward. She gripped the handle and pushed, but nothing happened. Prescott wailed in her arms as the TARDIS's hum got louder. "Sherlock!"

She pounding on the door with her palm, and felt frightened tears running down her cheeks. She saw the top of the door turning red, like paint spilling over the wood.

"Tabitha! Open the door!"

"I can't! It won't open!" she replied, wanting to do more than hear Sherlock's voice.

"You have to try!" It was Benedict this time. Tabitha was full on crying now, the room loud with tears and sobs from Prescott and his mother.

"I can't!" She laid her free hand palm down on the wooden door, watching as the red slowly took over the blue. Laying her forehead on the wood, she choked on a sob. "It won't open!"

"There is no other way! I need you to open the door, Tabitha! I won't lose you or my son!"

Tabitha choked again on her tears, and looked down at the red-faced infant. Her tears instantly dried up – what kind of mother was she if she didn't try until her last breath to save her son? Her fear turning into anger, she channeled that emotion into a loud growl and gripped the handle tightly.

"TARDIS! I need you! One last thing, please, help me open the door!" She pulled hard, and it shook in the frame. Hope flared through Tabitha – it was more movement than before. She heard the men banging on the door from the other side. She shouted a plea one more time, then pulled hard. The TARDIS seemed to groan in pain as the door flew open. A blue light shot out from the part of the door that was blue, and shoved her hard out the door. She cried out as she cradled Prescott against her as she fell onto the sand. The blue light tried to reach her, and she reached out a hand to try to touch it.

"No!" the normal Doctor shouted as the suited Doctor shoved him and ran to the door. The evil doctor laughed wickedly as the red fog curled around the blue light, pulling it back inside the TARDIS. Tabitha slumped in the sand, finally letting herself cry again. Prescott's cries turned into whimpers as he snuggled into his mother's chest – seeming to try to comfort her. The TARDIS had turned completely red.

They watched in fear as the TARDIS slowly disappeared.

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Sherlock felt all the energy sap out of his body as he stumbled through the sand to Tabitha and Prescott. Tears were in his eyes, but he fought against them falling. He feel to his knees and wrapped his arms around Tabitha and Prescott, pressing his forehead against hers. His head seemed to be spinning, but he focused on having Tabitha in his arms.

"You're alright, darling, I'm here," he murmured, holding her tightly. Tabitha shuddered and lifted her free up to cling to his shirt. It took a while for her tears to slow down, and Sherlock held her the whole time, murmuring soft words. The Doctor had ran over to where the TARDIS had stood, and was now on his knees, looking around in shock and despair. Benedict made a beeline for Tabitha and Sherlock, dropping to his knees on her other side and putting a hand on her cheek.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he said quickly, stumbling over his words. Tabitha turned her head enough to send him a nod, and turned back to Sherlock. She sniffled as her tears finally stopped, and Benedict wrapped his arm around her shoulders, over Sherlock's arm. He placed a hard kiss on her temple and closed his eyes as they held each other, feeling all their hearts pounding through one another.

"Can… can you hold Prescott? I don't want to let him go, but… but I need… need… please?" Benedict kissed her temple again and reluctantly let go of her. She looked at him with watery eyes, and he took Prescott from her arms. As he comforted the infant, Tabitha threw her arms around Sherlock, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. As their tongues slid over one another, Sherlock's hand found a place in her hair while the other was wrapped around her waist tightly. They were still kneeling in the sand, but neither one cared at the moment. Her hands gripped his shirt collar tightly as tears fell down her cheeks. They pulled away, but kept their foreheads together.

"I thought I lost you," Sherlock said hoarsely, breathing heavily after their kiss. He move his hand down to cup her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a tear. His blue eyes showed the emotion that he was having a hard time hiding. Tabitha laughed and kissed him again, this time softly.

"Never," she replied, crushing his body against hers, her head resting in the crook of his neck. He held her tightly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. Benedict cleared his throat, and looked apologetic as he got their attention.

"I think Prescott needs attention," he murmured, holding the wriggling baby in his arms. Prescott started to cry loudly. "Food, maybe a change?"

"Let's go inside," Sherlock murmured, helping Tabitha stand up. After she nodded to him, Sherlock moved to stand in front of Benedict. He took Prescott and struggled to think of something to say to his look-a-like. "You… you did… you did well. Uh, what I mean is, we couldn't…"

"I know," Benedict interrupted, knowing how difficult this could be for Sherlock. He turned to look at the Doctor, who was now sitting with his head between his knees in the sand. "I guess I should make sure he's okay." He turned back to Sherlock. "Go spend time with your family."

"Whether you like it or not, you're family," Tabitha said, surprising both men. She bounced Prescott in her arms as Sherlock frowned at her. Benedict frowned, too, but felt warmth spread through his body. It made him feel good to be included, especially with this crazy group. "Bring him in and join us."

He nodded as the couple and the infant turned and walked into the beach house. The wind had started blowing harder than before, and Benedict could tell there was a storm coming from the clouds over the water. The waves crashed on the shore, just a few feet away from the Doctor. Benedict made his way over to the man. He stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans, the wind ruffling his t-shirt lightly, and waited for the Doctor to notice him. It didn't take long.

"She's gone," he murmured, looking dazed. He turned and looked up at the actor. "He took her. I took her. Why did I take her? Why am I doing this?"

"I don't know. Let's get inside, though, yeah?"

"I have to fix this…" he mumbled to himself as he stood up. He walked with Benedict to the beach house, not bothering to shake the sand off. As the two of them entered, Benedict was relieved to hear the baby had stopped crying. He glanced at the kitchen, and saw Tabitha breastfeeding Prescott at the kitchen table. Sherlock was sitting close to her in another chair, touching her knee. Sherlock glanced up at him with a hard face. Benedict quickly averted his eyes.

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	11. What Will You Learn Today?

_Sorry it's taken a while to get this out! School and such are taking over - I'm trying to update once a week! This story is almost finished - I know, short but sweet. I'm working on the last few chapters right now! __**Don't forget to review!**_

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**CHAPTER 11 - What Will You Learn Today?**

Three hours later, it was dark on the beach. The Doctor had been staring out the window since the sun had set, and he still had no idea what to do. He was clever, he was an alien, and he was over 1300 years old. Why can't he figure this out? He frowned at his thoughts and crossed his arms over his chest. Leaning against the glass door, he narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon. Where did he go? He should have never gone through the void. He knew bad things could happen, and they had happened. Why didn't anyone listen to him?

He turned to look at his friends. Sherlock, Tabitha, and Benedict were sitting on the couch, in that order. They were quiet. Tabitha was looking down at a sleeping Prescott who was in her arms. Sherlock held Tabitha's free hand tightly, which was lying on his knee. His gaze was straight ahead, glazed over with thought. Benedict had his arm on the back of the couch behind Tabitha, leaning over to smile at Prescott, softly touching the baby's cheek.

Without meaning to, the Doctor felt a sense of sadness for the actor. He had already felt the connection to Prescott, and the feelings for Tabitha and even Sherlock were getting strong with every passing moment. It was going to be hard for him to let go when they left. And they had to leave – no question about it. With a sigh, he turned back to the beach on the other side of the glass. No clues to lead him. He pulled his arms apart and reached for his sonic screwdriver sticking out of his pocket. He brought it up in front of his face, and used both hands to turn it over and over, studying it.

Nothing. He had nothing.

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Sherlock had his hand against his face, his finger absentmindedly rubbing against his lips. He stared out in front of him, not looking at anything in particular. He knew that Benedict and Tabitha had their heads close and were murmuring over Prescott. The tight grip on Tabitha's hand soothed his jealousy of the actor getting her full attention. Another part of him, though, was surprisingly calm and accepting of the connection between the two of him. It was logical that there were feelings there, and he was okay with it.

The thought made him blink and he turned his gaze over to the man who looked just like him, except for the hair. The two of them looked up just as he turned toward them. Tabitha frowned at him and pulled away from Benedict, leaning closer to Sherlock.

"Are you alright? I mean, besides what happened early," she added with a tired sigh. Prescott was dozing in her arms, and Sherlock glanced down with a smile, than back up to look Benedict in his eyes.

"Yes. I believe I am," he answered, turning his body toward the pair. "Doctor? Can you take Prescott for the night?"

"What?" The three adults said it at the same time. Sherlock furrowed his brows and looked at each of them for a moment before stopping at the Doctor's face. "We have things we need to talk about, and I'd like to be able to fully focus on the issue at hand. If it wasn't important, I wouldn't ask you."

"Of course," the Doctor replied, raising his eyebrow with curiosity.

"What do you mean?" Tabitha asked, reluctantly handing the Doctor the sleeping infant. "Oh, he should be put to sleep. Where should he sleep?" She turned to Benedict as she said this. He thought a moment.

"We can make up a makeshift bed in one of the guest rooms with blankets and pillow. The Doctor can sleep in that room with Prescott."

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Prescott was sleeping in the makeshift bed of blankets next to the Doctor, who was sound asleep on the floor of the bedroom. The Doctor had insisted on sleeping on the floor to make sure Prescott slept well, and Tabitha appreciated his concern. She sent one last glance into the room and shut the door quietly. She turned away from the door, and was blocked by Benedict and Sherlock. Their build were noticeable different, although their faces were the same. Sherlock was lean and trim while Benedict had a bit more muscular build.

"Sherlock, you have something planned, don't you?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes suspiciously and crossing her arms over her chest. She had borrowed some clothing from Benedict just before they put the Doctor and Prescott to sleep – the t-shirt was long enough to be a makeshift dress, coming down to her mid-thighs.

"Come, let's talk," he replied cryptically, gesturing to Benedict as well as Tabitha. Tabitha wasn't sure what Sherlock thought they needed to talk about, and by the look that Benedict was giving her, he was feeling the same way. She shrugged at him and followed Sherlock toward Benedict's bedroom on the opposite end of the spare room.

"You know, you don't have to be so secretive about wanting sex," Tabitha chuckled as she followed her fiancée into the room. Benedict stopped at the door, and she turned to him. He looked flushed in response to what she had said. She grinned at him. Sherlock hummed a response and watched Tabitha with hooded eyes.

"Fine. I would like to share you one more time before we focus on finding a way home."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ben interrupted, shutting the door behind them. Tabitha and Sherlock looked back at him, the woman with a sad smile and the man with a confused look on his face. Ben sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he moved to stand in front of the couple. He looked Sherlock in the eyes, and then tilted his head down to look at Tabitha's face. "I think we need to stop this. Whatever this is…"

"Oh." Tabitha didn't know what to say. Her chest tightened, not liking what he had said at all. Sherlock blinked, and looked surprised at the comment. He opened his mouth, but Tabitha put a hand to his chest to stop him. "Sherlock, shush. He's right."

"I assume you want to stop this because of our feelings for Tabitha, correct?" Sherlock ignored Tabitha, who rolled her eyes. Ben crossed his arms over his chest with a nod. He looked away, but it was evident that he was struggling with being the one to cut it off. Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I see."

"I'm sorry," Tabitha whispered, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She blinked at tears as she took Sherlock's hand and pulling him toward the bedroom door. Benedict kept his eyes away as she opened the door. From the look on Sherlock's face, he didn't completely understand, but he still let Tabitha pull him away.

"I know," Ben answered. Sherlock stepped out of the room first, letting go of Tabitha's hand. "There is another room across from the Doctor. Why don't you sleep there tonight?"

"Right." Tabitha took one last look at the actor before shutting the door.

Ben immediately let out a groan and slumped on edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands. On one hand, he was crushed that he had to let Tabitha go, but he realized that a lot of these emotions would go away as soon as they left this world. They might even leave his dreams alone. He took a deep breath, stood up, and undressed for bed.

He crawled into his bed, naked and mentally exhausted from the long day. He flopped onto his stomach, spread eagle, and tried his best to clear his mind. As the room was beginning to fade away, he felt light touches over his abdomen. His eyelids popped open as he felt the whisper of a hand wrap around his cock. He immediately responded, and groaned as he buried his face in his pillow. He tried to ignore the sensations, he truly did, but it wasn't going away.

He growled and rolled onto his back, whimpering as the ghost hand slid up and down his length. He gripped the sheets on either side of him as a tongue slide over his tip. His hips bucked up, and he closed his eyes tightly. Visions of Tabitha bending over him, smiling as she pleasured him. He knew it was what Sherlock was seeing, and he felt jealous. Moaning, he ached for the real touch of her soft hand, but he accepted that these whisper touches and scenes through Sherlock's eyes were what he was going to get from now on.

He started to pant as he came close to climax. Just as he was about to finish, the touches stopped. He put his hands over his face and panted, trying to get his body to cool down. Just as he thought that it was over, he gasped as he envisioned her straddling him and taking him inside her in a quick motion. He bit his lip as he arched up into the phantom touches. He panted more, his eyes shut tight, feeling her moving over him. He clutched the sheets, again.

He felt her lips sliding over his neck and her teeth nipping at his shoulders and chest as she rode him fast and hard. Benedict cried out as his orgasm crashed over him, releasing himself on his stomach. He sucked in hard breathes as he came down from his high. He refused to open his eyes, wanting to keep ahold of the feeling a little longer.

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Tabitha shuddered over Sherlock, burying her face into the crook of his neck as he nuzzled her temple and hold her tightly around the waist. She kissed his neck and grinned as she pulled herself to lean over him, his member still inside her.

"You did that for Benedict, didn't you? Showing him what he's missing," Sherlock murmured, cradling her face in his hands. Tabitha blushed, but kept the smile on her face. He pulled her face down for a long, passionate kiss and then his hands moved to her waist. After coming apart, he moved to the connected bathroom to get a washcloth. Tabitha liked that Sherlock seemed to enjoy running the cloth over her body after their lovemaking. It was a gentle side to Sherlock that not ,any people saw.

When they were finished cleaning up, Sherlock laid on his back and held Tabitha to his chest, her hand resting over his beating heart.

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, too, darling." His voice was low, drowsy with sleep. "My offer earlier to share you with Benedict was the last time."

"I know."

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"Prescott really wants his mummy and daddy!"

Sherlock shot up quickly, the knocking on the door waking him out of his sleep immediately. Tabitha moaned beside him, and pulled the cover over her face. If it had been anyone else, Sherlock would have woken her to take care of it. Instead, he didn't mind answering the door to give his son attention. The child fascinated him more than he would have thought possible. He pulled on his pajama pants on and strode to the door.

When he opened it, the Doctor was standing with Prescott cradled against his chest. His hair was messy and his own pajamas were wrinkled. Sherlock took the child without a word, murmured a 'thank you', and shut the door. The Doctor shuffled away, mumbling. Prescott snuggled against his father's shoulder, and Sherlock brushed his lips over the child's head.

"What will you learn today?"

He glanced at Tabitha, who was still asleep, and pulled one of the small blankets out of the diaper bag. He laid on the floor and placed Prescott on his back. He sat cross legged at the baby's feet and pulled out a small notebook that was stuck in one of the side pockets. Sherlock kept track of Prescott's development.

Tabitha would berate him if she found out, so he usually weighed and measured and observed Prescott when Tabitha wasn't paying attention. Sherlock wrote down the infant's approximant weight and height and went through different experiments to perform this morning. At seven weeks, an infant will track objects with their eyes. He leaned over the child, whose eyes were wide open. Prescott was studying the ceiling fan with intensity. Sherlock cocked his head to the side, and write down his observations in the notebook. His son's development was right on track. Of course, he wouldn't be surprised if his child's development was faster than a normal child.

Sherlock and Prescott spent the next 45 minutes playing – Sherlock using different toys and objects to capture his attention, writing down which ones he seemed to be interested in and which ones he would only glance at. Changing Prescott's diaper, Sherlock took the opportunity to make sure the infant's belly button was healing nicely. He wouldn't admit it to Tabitha, or anyone else for that matter, but he enjoyed these quiet times with his son.

He surprised even himself with how parental he was being. Remembering his own family – the nannies and how he barely saw his own parents before they died – made him determined to raise his son in a positive environment.

Sherlock was holding Prescott close to his face, murmuring sounds that Prescott seemed to try to repeat in a primitive way, when Tabitha cleared her throat. Sherlock jumped and pulled the baby close as his head whipped around to see his fiancée smiling at him. Tabitha's hand was propping up her head, her hair falling messily around her naked shoulders. The blankets covered her breasts.

"I think he might need a feeding," she said as Prescott began to fidget and cry at the sound of Tabitha's voice.

"Of course. I was just making sure he was changed before I woke you up to care for him."

"Right," she replied, a smirk on her lips as Sherlock nonchalantly handing the child over to her. Sherlock's cheeks were flushed, as if embarrassed that she had seen him showing so much sentiment towards someone, even if that was their son. As she nursed Prescott, she thought about the plans for the day. The sun was shining hazily through the curtains. "Today we work on getting home, yes?"

"Yes," Sherlock agreed, standing up and pulling the curtains open. He leaned against the window frame as he gazed outside. "The Doctor must have some way of tracking his TARDIS."

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The two men who looked alike and Tabitha, who was holding a sleeping infant, stood on the wooden porch with wide eyes as they watched the Doctor try to track the TARDIS. The two men had their arms over their chest, Ben dressed in his regular jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops while Sherlock had turned back to his dress pants, shoes, and a white buttoned up shirt. Tabitha decided on jean shorts and a simple t-shirt herself, with Prescott in a green onesie.

The Doctor was back in his usual tweed jacket, bowtie, and braces. Currently, he was in the middle of the beach, with a determined look on his face, and the sonic gripped tightly in both hands. He was stretching his arms high, as far as they would go, pressing the button to make the sonic hum. It was a very amusing and odd sight.

"Does he truly think this will help?" Sherlock murmured, annoyance in his voice. He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward to say something, but Tabitha threw out her arm in front of him.

"He's the expert."

"I kind of feel sorry for him. It's obvious it's not working," Benedict commented with a sympathetic look on his face.

"It's all we have," Tabitha replied with narrowed eyes. The men shut their mouths and raised their eyebrows as the Doctor growled loudly, beating the sonic against the palm of his hand. He raised it into the air, again, and pressed the button. The light was red, but everyone watching held their breath as it slowly turned from red to green.

"Yes!" the Doctor cried, jumping in the sand. He laughed, obviously happy that he got something useful. The three adults watched silently as he ran clumsily through the sand to them. He jumped up the steps with a grin. "I have it! I have a signal! I need a television. Where's the television?"

"Living room, where it's been the whole week you've been here," the actor noted as they followed the jittery time lord. Tabitha felt relief making her body relaxed at how happy the Doctor was. It had been a long nine days in this world, and she was ready to go home. The tension between Sherlock, Benedict, and her had slowly faded. It was still there, but they had all accepted what was going to happen, and had decided to be friendly.

"What do you need the telly for?" Sherlock asked. He studied the Doctor as the man pointed his sonic in the middle of the big flat screen and pressed the button. The screen turned on, crackling with static and white noise. The Doctor brought the sonic close to his face, shook it, and repeated his action toward the screen.

Suddenly, an image popped up. It was the metal room, but with a beating heart in the middle. All sorts of red electric currents were connected from the heart to the walls, the air foggy and red. There was a tiny blue light in the middle of the heart, as if it was struggling to break free of the red tendrils that rolled around the room.

"This is the heart of the TARDIS. The true heart. The star in the middle powers it, but this… this is its core, its emotions!"

Tabitha stared with round gray eyes. Sherlock stepped forward, leaning to squint at the screen, taking everything he saw in quickly. The Doctor grinned gleefully as he let out a squeal of happiness towards Benedict and Tabitha, who were standing next to each other. Tabitha kissed Prescott's head absentmindedly as excitement rushed over her.

"The blue light! It's… it's fighting," she sighed, relieved. "The TARDIS is still there!"

"Yes! Yes, the old girl is holding on. I need to contact her, make a connection, before the Doctor figures out I'm connected." He fluttered around the room and into the kitchen, opening doors and cabinets, muttering to himself.

"What do you need?" Benedict moved into action, putting a hand on Tabitha's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled at Sherlock, who ignored him and kept his eyes on the screen in front of him.

"How do we do that?" Sherlock asked, suddenly turning and standing straight. His face showed his determination.

"Cables!" the Doctor cried, popping out from around a corner with a huge wreath of thick wires around his neck. He rushed toward the television set and threw down the wiring.

"Where did you get that?" Benedict asked, looking as surprised as everyone else. Sherlock bent down next to the Doctor.

"Garage – your friend seems to still have work to do with wiring in there," the Doctor replied, pulling wires apart. He handed a handful of black wires to Sherlock. "Connect these to all possible connections at the back of the telly."

"These aren't mine! Will it ruin it?" Benedict cried, rushing over to stop Sherlock by grabbing his arm.

"Nah, I'll get you a new one," the Doctor answered with a wave of his hand. Benedict look worried, and Tabitha laughed.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Ben. Let's step back while these guys work their magic."

"I'm sure it's not magic, my dear," Sherlock replied, doing what the Doctor ask quickly.

After a few minutes, Tabitha and Ben were entertaining a wide-awake infant on the floor while Sherlock and the Doctor finished up all their connections. There were wires running from the back of the television set to the sonic screwdriver, where it was connected at the end in a fashion no one knew could work.

Other wires were running from the back of the television to a handful of electrical plugs throughout the living room. Benedict had reluctantly given up his laptop as a 'command center', as the Doctor explained. It didn't explain anything, but the other three adults decided to just do as the Doctor said.

"Ah ha!" the Doctor cried, typing furiously on the laptop on top of the coffee table. Sherlock turned from looking at the red room with the heart beating in the middle. "Now, all I have to do is give it a little tweak and…"

He lifted the sonic up and pointed it at the laptop. He pressed the button, the sonic hummed for a moment, and then a women's voice came from the laptop.

"Doctor? Where are you? Help me! He isn't good!"


	12. He's Still As Dumb As A Rock

_Finally, another chapter! Wrapping up the love triangle and getting to the Holmes wedding! Here you'll see a little Prescott/Mycroft time - at least the beginning of it! __**Don't forget to review!**_

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**CHAPTER 12 - He's still as dumb as a rock.**

"I'm here! I'm here, my lovely TARDIS!"

"Doctor! Oh, my Doctor! Where are you?"

"I'm in Greece. And there. My evil side. Where is he?"

Sherlock joined Tabitha on the floor, grabbing her hand tightly. Benedict took her other hand. They watched silently as the Doctor conversed with the voice.

"Red is in the main room. Red is not you. You are blue. Where is blue?"

"I know, I know! I need you to fight. I know there is something of you left. I need you to push the barriers as hard as you can. When I say push, push, do you understand?"

"Doctor! Red is coming!"

"Just a moment!" The Doctor pressed a few more keys on the laptop, and hovered over the delete key, his hands shaking slightly. "TARDIS... wait for it… wait for it…"

"Red is here! Red is here!"

"Now! Push the barrier! Bring out the blue!" the Doctor shouted as he hit the delete key with force, holding it down with a growl as the blue light pulsing in the middle of the red heart and room blossomed. Little by little it grew until the heart was a burning blue star in the middle of red. "That's it! Keep going!"

The Doctor moved away from the keyboard and moved to kneel in front of the television sit. He placed both hands on the screen, as if cradling the heart in his hands through the screen. The room was silent as every pair of eyes, even those of Prescott's, were staring at the beating blue heart. There was small whimpers and moans from the laptop, the voice of the TARDIS, who was using all her strength to take back control.

Suddenly, the room burst into a blue explosion, and a loud cry from the suited Doctor could be hear off in the distance in the TARDIS. The light faded, and the metal room was washed in the blue light that was supposed to be there.

Benedict, Tabitha, and the Doctor all cheered, jumping up and hugging one another as they heard the hum of the TARDIS. The room filled with a light breeze as the TARDIS materialized, the deep blue it was supposed to be, in the middle of the room. Sherlock smiled an honest smile as he wrapped his arms around his fiancée tightly, making sure not to squish the newborn.

"No! No, you don't!" the suited Doctor cried. He was flung out of the TARDIS doors by an invisible force, making him crash into the wall on the far side of the room. Sherlock and Tabitha stepped back, shielding their child from the angry look in the man's eyes. Benedict stepped in front of the couple for more protection while the Doctor moved quickly.

He punched his evil twin in the jaw, sending the suited Doctor back to the floor. The suited Doctor growled, and reached for his legs to knock him down, but the Doctor pointed his screwdriver at him and pressed the button to make it hum.

The suited Doctor screamed, high-pitched and painful, covering his ears as the wind picked up in the room.

"Sherlock!"

"Hold onto me!" Sherlock yelled to Tabitha over the winds, getting louder with each second. Benedict wrapped himself around the other side of Tabitha and Prescott. They watched as the Doctor struggled to stay upright. The suited Doctor was kicking and screaming on the floor, while the sonic screwdriver's noise because worse.

"You need to leave, now!" the Doctor cried angrily to the man below him. He grunted with determination as he pressed the sonic screwdriver against the man's forehead. The suited Doctor gave one last cry and exploded into red particles. The wind slowly died down, the red particles floating around the room like thick dust. Everyone coughed, waving the red dust away from their faces. Sherlock and Tabitha covered Prescott with themselves, doing their best to keep him from dealing with the dust.

"Doctor! Doctor, are you okay?" Benedict yelled over to the man, who was staring at the pile of dust at his feet. His breathing was heavy, and his hair was messy. "Doctor?"

"Blue is back." The voice from the laptop sounded tired, but happy to be back in control.

"Blue is back!" the Doctor suddenly cried, his face turning to extreme happiness as he turned and threw himself against the blue box. He wrapped his arms around it as much as he could, and hugged it like a child. The red dust had settled around the room. "We can go home!"

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One day later, and after ten days in this universe, Tabitha and Sherlock, with their son, were ready to go back to their life. The Doctor promised to get them back at the point where they were only gone for a day. As Tabitha, the Doctor, and Prescott made sure all their things were on the TARDIS and ready to go, Benedict pulled Sherlock to a stop just outside the TARDIS door. He glanced into the box, seeing Tabitha and the Doctor chatting at the console, and turned back to Sherlock.

"Take care of her. She deserves – "

"I know. She's the only woman who doesn't seem to get irritated with my needs," Sherlock said, cutting him off. Benedict cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. Sherlock smirked and put out a hand. Benedict took it and they shook, a silent understanding between them. The past week and a half had been crazy, and it wasn't going to happen again. Tabitha was not coming back, and Benedict just had to accept it.

"Safe trip? I'm not sure what to say with this…" Benedict muttered, pulling his hand back and shuffling his feet.

"Ben! Sherlock, can I say goodbye to Ben? In private?" Tabitha popped up beside Sherlock, holding Prescott close to her chest.

"We have to leave in three minutes," he replied, raising an eyebrow and shuffling into the blue box. Tabitha rolled her eyes and turned to Benedict. He smiled softly down at her, and she reached out with her free arm around his neck to pull him into a hug. He froze, not sure what to do, then wrapped his arms around her waist. He hugged her close, and placed a kiss on top of Prescott's head when she pulled away.

"If it was different – "

"Nope, don't." Ben chuckled, reaching for her hand. Tabitha smiled back at him and squeezed his hand in response. "Goodbye. Be safe."

"I have Sherlock – how dangerous can it get?" she teased. Ben winced, and she laughed loudly. She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He swallowed and nodded as she backed away from him. He waved and said goodbye to Prescott, who watched him intensely. Tabitha waved a final goodbye, and he did the same, leaning against the railing of the stairs to the sand. He watched as the blue doors closed silently behind her. He watched as the TARDIS faded with a whirring sound, kicking up the sand. With a sigh, he made his way back into the beach home.

He looked around the living room, shiny and clean after yesterday's explosion of red dust. Tabitha had helped him clean up, and he smiled at the thought. The memory of the time they had in the bedroom made him frown. He sighed and made his way to the kitchen to get some whiskey. Why not?

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"Oh, god, I can't wait to get home!" Tabitha yelled with her head tilted back, shouting it to the ceiling of the console room. Prescott had gone down for a nap a few minutes ago. Sherlock, her, and the Doctor were circled around the console. The Doctor seemed almost in tears of joy at the return of his believed box.

"It will be nice to see John again."

"You miss him!"

"No, I'm just used to seeing him often."

"Just admit it – you miss him. And Mary. And Mrs. Hudson. And Mycroft!"

"Oh, please, Mycroft is a thorn in my side," Sherlock scoffed and frowned down at the console in front of him. Tabitha chuckled at his denial and wrapped her arms around his waist. She placed her cheek on his jacket-covered back.

Sherlock pressed his lips together, not wanting to admit out loud that his fiancée was correct. Inside, though, he was elated that he would be going back to their world. As much as this world was fascinating, he knew they didn't belong here. He stood straight and turned so he was looking down at Tabitha's face. She grinned at him, but he saw grief in her eyes.

"I better check on Prescott." Tabitha pulled away, lowering her eyes. He caught her arm and pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He lifted her head by her chin.

"You miss him, already," Sherlock murmured, making sure to keep the conversation just between the two of them. The Doctor was occupied with the task of getting them home, watching the screen and controlling the console when needed. Tabitha shrugged her shoulders and pulled her chin out of Sherlock's fingers. She picked at invisible lint on the front of his jacket.

"We had a connection, that's all. It's going to be hard to forget him."

"I don't understand. You know we can't come back."

"I know, I know! Don't question my emotions, just support me like a partner should," she grumbled with a smile, fluttering her lashes at him. Sherlock furrowed his brows and pulled her in for a tight hug. She hugged him back as he brushed his lips against her forehead. The TARDIS whirred around them, and the trip was smooth.

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The TARDIS appeared in Sherlock's living room, making John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson cry out in alarm. Papers flew around the room as the TARDIS materialized. Mycroft was sipping a shot of whiskey calmly in Sherlock's chair. Mrs. Hudson stood up with a hand to her chest.

"Look at the mess. He isn't going to arrive like this all the time, is he?" Mrs. Hudson fluttered around the room, straightening the mess the TARDIS had made. The blue door flung open, and the Doctor spread his arms in greeting with a huge grin on his face.

"We're home!" he sang. John and Mary chuckled and gave him a return hug and greeting. Mycroft lifted his glass. Sherlock, holding Prescott, followed the Doctor. Tabitha was last out the door with Prescott's bag on her shoulders.

Mary and Tabitha squealed when they saw each other and wrapped their arms around one another.

"It's like you've been gone for weeks instead of hours," John murmured, rolling his eyes.

"We were in Tabitha's universe for ten days, John," Sherlock stated, rocking Prescott in his arms. "Prescott is eight weeks old."

"Ten days!" Mycroft exclaimed, standing. "Do you know the damage - ?"

"Don't worry, it's under control, Mycroft," the Doctor said, coming up to the taller man and grabbing his arms. "We're home, safe and sound. Everything is in order."

"So, did you do what needed to be done?" John asked, not sure what had happened in regards to Tabitha and Sherlock getting married. Mary raised an eyebrow at her friend and pulled back. Mycroft, John, the Doctor, and her all waited for an answer. Sherlock glanced at Tabitha, then back to Prescott.

"I got a ring, the next step is a wedding, yeah?" Tabitha put out her hand and Mary squealed again. Tabitha grinned and the two woman stood close, discussing the ring.

"Is the screaming necessary?" Sherlock grumbled, moving to take a seat in the vacated seat next to Mycroft. The women ignored him.

"I never thought I'd see the day my little brother considered marriage," Mycroft stated, the sarcasm overlying the pride in his voice. He stood next to Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder. Prescott moved his eyes to his uncle and kicked in Sherlock's arms.

"It's what's expected of our relationship," he answered, a smirk on his lips as he observed Prescott respond to his voice. The infant stared into his father's eyes intently.

"Don't talk like that to Tabitha. She wants to hear that you're marrying her because you love her," John insisted, sitting in his own chair and leaning forward.

"She knows how I feel, John. It's been said many times," Sherlock answered, glancing at John with a blank face. He looked down at Prescott, and his expression softened into a smile. "He recognizes my voice. It's fascinating. He's only been in this world eight weeks."

"Oh, of course he does, Sherlock, you're his father. His protector, his caregiver, his parent." Mrs. Hudson appeared out of nowhere with snacks on a tray. "Fancy a nibble?"

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Weeks passed, and it was back to normal for the Holmes's and their family. Prescott was developing as any child should, and that made Sherlock a bit temperamental. At three months, his infant son was just as normal as everyone else. Tabitha scolded him once for it, and he tried his best to not complain out loud after that incident.

Plans for the wedding was still not being done, with Sherlock and John extremely busy with Lestrade. Mary and Tabitha were both busy in their own way – Mary working extra hours to pay for a special trip to New York City for the holidays, and Tabitha dealing with an extremely active infant. Sherlock was doing his best to put the whole wedding business in the back of his mind, and everyone else let him.

It was a cloudy, snowy day on New Year's Eve. John and Mary had taken their trip to New York City, leaving Sherlock to pout about not having the partner he needed to solve cases. Mycroft rolled his eyes in one of the chairs, his hands on the arm rests.

"Sherlock, you have plenty of other people you can use. Tabitha is a very intelligent woman!"

"Thank you, Mycroft!" she replied from the bedroom, out of sight. Sherlock knew she was giving Prescott a bath. He scoffed and turned back toward the window. He was in a soft gray t-shirt and blue-striped pajama pants with his hands on his hips. His dressing gown was thrown over the back of his chair.

"She has to take care of Prescott. She can't come with me to crime scenes."

"That's what a babysitter is for, dear brother."

"Are you offering?" Tabitha stepped into the hallway with Prescott wrapped in a towel in her arms. Her free hand was holding a bundle of clothing, a diaper, and a bottle of moisturizing lotion. Sherlock whipped his head to Mycroft, who had started choking on his breath.

"As much as I love my nephew, I am far too busy – "

"You said not even five minutes ago that you were taking a week-long vacation per your doctor," Tabitha pointed out, laying a blanket on the floor and placing Prescott atop. Sherlock and Mycroft traded a look.

"My brother is_ not_ going to watch my child. He'll forget about him while he's off doing some secret government mission," Sherlock grumbled, stomping to his chair and plopping down. He propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of his face. "Anderson is my only choice."

The look on his face told Mycroft and Tabitha just how irritated he was about that fact.

"I thought you and Anderson were on decent terms," Tabitha asked, finishing dressing Prescott in a white onesie and black sweatpants. She put fuzzy black socks on his little feet, and bent down to rub her nose against his. She murmured with a smile, and Prescott bounced his legs and arms.

"He's still as dumb as a rock."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he stood from the chair.

"I _would_ like to show some of my colleagues that I truly do have a nephew," he murmured, putting his hands in his dress trouser pockets and looking down at the infant. Prescott turned his head at his uncle's voice and stared.

"You want to prove that Sherlock actually is in a relationship?" Tabitha looked up from her spot on the floor with a teasing grin.

"You have to admit, it's surprising."

"It is," she nodded in agreement, sneaking a look at Sherlock. He frowned at her, and she sent him a big grin. "Come on, a year and a half ago you would rather have the Sherlock hat glued to your head than be in love."

"That monstrosity is never to be mentioned again, remember?" he replied, pointing at her with raised eyebrows. A smirked pulled the corners of his lips up. He stood up to follow his brother to the door. "One hour is all we'll need."

"I think I can handle an hour with a child."

"You may not even have to change him," Tabitha chuckled, rolling Prescott on his stomach for some tummy time. Prescott lifted his head to gaze around the room.

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"He'll be _fine_, Sherlock," Tabitha said as she bumped her elbow into his arm. He frowned, bundled up in his long coat. Mycroft held Prescott in his arms, his head near his shoulder. He was wearing a rare combination of t-shirt and sleep trousers with socks. Tabitha had never been to his flat, but I was just as she thought it would be. Prestigious, clean, and filled with dark wood in most places. The sun was shining through the sheer curtains over the windows.

"Prescott will need to be fed in exactly 32 minutes," Sherlock reminded Mycroft as Tabitha pushed him toward the door. The woman was bundled in her own black leather coat with blue jeans leading to dark trainers.

"Your father seems to think I can't read the instructions your mum gave me," Mycroft murmured to the infant with a smile. Tabitha winked at him as she shut the door, cutting Sherlock off from another lecture about how Prescott needed tummy time. Mycroft bounced his nephew in his arms as he listened to the couple bickering down the stairwell to the street.

"What destruction can one as adorable as you cause in an hour?" Mycroft chuckled, walking into his carpeted living room. He sat in his chair and propped Prescott on his knees with the infant's feet pressed down. The baby stretched on his lap, his arms and fingers reaching out. Mycroft tilted his head as he stared at Prescott. Suddenly, the child let out a loud burp and spewed on his dark onesie. Mycroft wrinkled his nose and Prescott gurgled with a smile.

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	13. Love Is Complicated

_I'm here, I'm here! Here is another chapter! At the end it starts getting steamy, but I cut it off before anything fun happens. I hope you like this chapter! It's taken me a while to get things churned out with this story - school, my benedict story, my actual story that i want to get published - it's all taken my time! Anyway,_** don't forget to review!**

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**CHAPTER 13 - Love Is Complicated**

Sherlock stared at his phone while Molly, Vincent, and Tabitha stared at the body on the metal table. Molly and Vincent shared a confused look while Tabitha placed her hands on her hips.

"Sherlock! Prescott is fine with is uncle. The body?" She gestured toward it with her hand.

"It's time for his feeding – "

"How fast can you get all the clues?" Vincent interrupted with a nod of encouragement from his girlfriend. Sherlock looked up from the phone with surprised expression.

"My record is eight seconds."

"Can you beat that?" Vincent grinned. "Faster you get done, the faster you can make sure Mycroft hasn't broken your son."

Tabitha sent him a glare, and Molly smacked him on the arm. He smiled sheepishly, realizing the words he said may have sounded a bit dark. At that moment, Lestrade strolled into the room, his brown coat bellowing behind him. Tabitha raised her eyebrows, watching him swagger into the room.

"Having a good day?"

"Not bad," he smirked, a secretively glint in his eye. Everyone else in the room looked at one another. "I may get a salary raise." Everyone but Sherlock smiled and congratulated the man.

"Vincent? Time me!" Sherlock cried, bending over the body. He shuffled around the body for a few seconds. "Stop the clock!"

Lestrade looked confused at what was happening, but kept his mouth shut as Vincent let out a shout of excitement. Tabitha and Molly moved to lean against one of the counters with their arms over their chests.

"7.25 seconds! What do you have?"

"How's it going with you and Vincent?" Tabitha murmured, leaning close to Molly. The woman blushed with a shrug, but didn't answer. Tabitha frowned, and Molly grinned.

"We're moving in together.

"How exciting!" Tabitha grinned, bumping her friend with her arm. They giggled together for a moment, and then realized that Sherlock and Lestrade were shouting at each other. Vincent looked caught between a rock and a hard place.

"It's the cause of death!"

"No it's not!"

"Sherlock, it's right there!"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, it is not right there!"

"Then what killed her if _it wasn't the injection of deadly poison?_"

"Sherlock, why not just take a breath and show us what the cause of death is," Vincent said, stepping between the two men.

"I can't show you – it's untraceable," Sherlock said with a glare towards Lestrade. "When have I ever steered you wrong, DI Lestrade?"

"I need proof. I need something traceable, Sherlock."

"Fine. Molly!" She jumped and hurried over to the dark-haired man as he scrapped some cells from the dead women's arm. He covered the petri dish and handed it to Molly. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, and she nodded. Hurrying out the door, Tabitha suspected Molly was going to run some tests.

"How long is this going to take?"

"Ten minutes. I need to get my son, you will have your proof once Molly is finished. Arrest the son as soon as you can!"

Sherlock ambled toward the door, and Tabitha jumped away from the counter. She sent a farewell and hurried after her fiancée. She finally caught him hailing a cab on the street.

"Sherlock, you are acting crazy," she whispered harshly, pulling his arm down. A taxi rushed by them. Sherlock frowned at her. "Prescott is fine, I _promise_. What's going on? This isn't you."

He was silent, his face hard and his hands in his pocket. Tabitha moved to stand in front of him, reaching up to fix his coat collar to stand up around his neck. He glanced down at her, his expression changing from blank to concern.

"I'm responsible for my son. Mycroft is selfish."

"Mycroft is family. Why are you worried?" Sherlock pursed his lips and looked away. "Sherlock? Have you seen Mycroft with a child?"

"No. Never. How do I know he is responsible enough to keep my son safe?"

"He's the British government – he can get whatever he needs to keep Prescott safe," Tabitha teased with a smile. Sherlock moved his eyes back to her gray ones. She lifted onto her toes and kissed his mouth softly. "We're finished, anyway. Let's go get our son, but don't let Mycroft see how crazy you're being. He'll laugh at you and we all know how much you hate that."

"You know me so well," he murmured, visibly relaxing as he bent forward to capture her lips once more.

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Forty-five minutes into his first babysitting job, and Mycroft was exhausted. The infant wasn't mobile, but constantly wanted attention. After he had to change Prescott's onesie, the child had needed a diaper change. Mycroft embarrassingly had never changed one, and it had taken more time than it should have to figure out the contraption. Prescott had ended up relieving himself all over Mycroft's shirt.

After Mycroft changed his own shirt, he came back into the living room to see Prescott had rolled onto his stomach on his blanket and was chewing on Mycroft's smartphone that was used only for direct contact to the Prime Minister. He did his best not to become angry, and took the phone gently from the smiling infant. The phone was covered in drool, and wouldn't turn on.

Getting a small break by giving Prescott a few toys to slobber over, he ordered a new emergency phone, ran a hand over his face, and nibbled on a sandwich. He glanced at his watch just as Prescott started to cry.

"Ah, are you hungry, little man?" he murmured. He grabbed a bottle of breast milk from the fridge and settled next to the angry infant. Prescott kicked his feet and cried unhappily as Mycroft picked him up. "Here you go! Here, no need to cry."

Prescott sucked hungrily at the bottle, and Mycroft sighed with relief as silence descended his living room. He leaned back against the bottle of his chair, leaning his head back with his eyes closed. It had only been forty-five minutes, but he suddenly realized how incredibly strong Tabitha must be to deal with a child _and_ Sherlock at the same time.

Just as Prescott was finishing his bottle, there was a knock on the door, followed by Sherlock stepping into the room almost hesitantly. Mycroft smirked as he looked up at his brother from his spot on the floor. Prescott spit out the bottle and gurgled happily.

"How's Mommy's baby boy?" Tabitha smiled, stepping around Sherlock to take the baby from Mycroft. "Can you hand me a blanket? I can burp him."

Mycroft stood up and did as she asked. Sherlock studied the room, surprised.

"See? Nothing to it," Mycroft smiled, spreading his arms.

"You changed Prescott's and your shirt."

"Babies are messy, Sherlock."

"Of course," Sherlock murmured, looking around suspiciously. Tabitha rolled her eyes as she patted Prescott's back. He let out a belch and she cleaned him up. She nudge Sherlock and gestured toward Mycroft with her head. Sherlock sighed heavily and come up to his brother, clearing his throat.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For watching my son," Sherlock mumbled, his words flooding together. Mycroft nodded and smiled haughtily. Tabitha glared at him, and Mycroft dropped his smile.

"Yes, of course. I love my nephew. If you need someone to watch him, in an emergency, of course, please call me."

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Benedict Cumberbatch was frozen in line at the coffee place near the set of his next project, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide. Tabitha was standing right in front of him, but he knew it wasn't the Tabitha he knew. He gulped and started to panic. The line moved forward, and Tabitha wasn't paying attention. He stepped onto the heel of flat-heeled boots, and she hissed.

"Oh, god, I am so sorry!"

"No, no! I wasn't paying attention," she stuttered, turning around to look up at him, her face pink and teeth biting her lip. Her gray eyes were covered in square black glasses. He swallowed, visions of their time spent naked in the bedroom flooding his thoughts. He coughed to cover his stutter. A smile appeared on her lips, and she pointed at him. "I know you."

"Uh, maybe, probably, most likely," he stuttered again. She laughed, and the line moved forward. She stepped ahead this time, and he followed. She was wearing a deep red long-sleeved cotton dress that ended in the middle of her thighs. She had on black tights and black boots. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her lips were a deep red from lipstick.

"Do you mind sitting with me while we drink our drinks? I mean, if you have time. I have one question I've always wanted to ask you." She glanced over her shoulder at him, then looked away in shyness. Benedict smiled, realizing this wasn't the same person at all in personality.

"Why not? I have time," he answered. She chuckled and stepped up to get her coffee.

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The Doctor lounged on a beach chair in the middle of his console room. He sipped a fruity drink from a curly straw with a loud slurping noise as Clara stood with her arms on her hips next to him. She cocked her hip and head with frown.

"What are you doing? You're wearing swim trunks in the middle of the TARDIS!"

"Enjoying the view," he answered, raising his sunglasses to sit at the top of his head. She raised an eyebrow and turned her head to look at the screen in front of them. It was split down the middle, one showing Benedict Cumberbatch speaking to a woman in a café, and the other showing Sherlock and Tabitha playing with their son on the floor of their flat. She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You saved them."

"That I did." He raised his glass in a toast, and Clara rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

"How is it possible that she is there when that version of her is with Sherlock?"

"Time can be rewritten, my dear Clara. It was easy to get her parents together. After that, they did it all themselves! It's not exactly as it was before with her, but it's still Tabitha Wilson."

"Isn't her last name Hunter?" Clara looked at the screen in confusion.

"Wilson is her maiden name. T.J. Hunter is with another wonderful woman. This version of Tabitha is meant to be with Mr. Cumberbatch."

"Love is complicated."

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Sherlock watched Tabitha do dishes while he leaned back in his chair. His hands were on the arm rest. John was due back in 12 hours. He studied her movements, and smiled. She was in a good mood. Prescott was napping quietly in his crib.

"Sherlock, do you really want to get married?"

"I told you I did," he replied, picking up the latest newpaper and opening it. He read through a few dull stories, and turned the page. "Why do you asked?" He stopped and glanced up. Tabitha had turned away from the sink and leaned her hip against the counter. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and Sherlock frowned. Something was wrong.

"We haven't talked about it since before we came back here," she said quietly, looking out the window over the sink. Sherlock felt his chest tighten – this was a very different side of Tabitha. The usually confident and teasing woman was now shy and unsure.

"I didn't think it was important at the moment. Is it important right now?" He saw Tabitha struggle between annoyance and patience. He placed the paper back on the table next to his chair and stood. He moved to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, love. I'm not sure what we need to talk about."

"What kind of wedding are we going to have?" Tabitha turned her head and tilted it upward to look at him. "And if you think we just have to sign a paper and everything is done, you're wrong." She poked him in the chest to make a point.

"I…" That was exactly what he had been thinking, but he didn't admit it. "I have no experience in this matter. If you think we should start making a plan, let's do that."

"You really were just going to sign a paper, weren't you?" she sighed, looking up at him with a smile of sympathy.

"Before you, I wasn't too keen on why people made a big deal about it. I still don't." Tabitha frowned, and he cleared his throat. "I understand why you are making a big deal of it, though. What did you do for your wedding with T.J.?"

"We didn't have one. We just signed the marriage license. We couldn't afford anything else." She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. Sherlock placed his chin on top of her head.

"I see."

"Do you?"

"I think so. You want to have a ceremony."

"Yes."

"With guests and bridesmaids and groomsmen and a wedding cake and music and lots of floral decorations."

"You know more than you let on," she chuckled, pulling back to look at him again.

"I needed to know what was expected of me before I asked you to commit to a relationship with me."

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John and Mary came back from New York City with wide smiles and starry eyes. He had asked her to marry him. Sherlock looked like he was in pain as the woman squealed and giggled over wedding plans. John quickly dragged him out of the flat to a restaurant a few blocks away. As they were seated at a table, John eyed Sherlock questioningly.

"You want to ask me about our marriage plans."

"Are you making plans, or is this going to be a 'sign the paper and have sex afterwards' type of celebration?" John continued to look through the menu as Sherlock glared at him. He seemed amused at irritating his friend after being gone for three weeks in America.

"You should realize by now that I do know about social customs, John," Sherlock murmured, picking his menu up and opening it in front of his face. John glanced at the man hiding his frown and chuckled. He ordered a pasta dish for both of them, even though Sherlock mumbled about not being hungry.

"What happened while you were in Tabitha's universe? You never said anything about it." John took a big bite of pasta. Sherlock propped his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of his chin. "Is there a reason?"

"We meet the man who plays me in the television show."

"Wow. How did he take it?" John stuffed another bite in his mouth, smiling at the waitress who came over to make sure they were doing well. Sherlock looked out the big window to his right. Across from him, John swallowed his latest bite and sat straight. "Sherlock? Did something happen?"

"It was very interesting. We found out that he had been having dreams of Tabitha from my point of view, especially during sexual experiences."

John choked on the water he was sipping.

"That must have been humiliating for the poor guy."

"Maybe at first, but we used it to our advantage," Sherlock replied with a smirk. John furrowed his brows, unsure what his friend meant by his words. Sherlock glanced at him, saw the confused look, and chuckled. "We did an experiment. I learned that I can feel what he does with Tabitha just like he can with myself."

This time John fell into a coughing fit as he took another bite of pasta. Sherlock grinned at him as the waitress came back to refill his glass with water. John waved her away and took a gulp of water. Finally, he breathed deeply.

"You mean you… I mean, this actor... both of you… with Tabitha?"

"If you're trying to ask if Benedict and I shared Tabitha sexually, yes."

"Right." John replied, staring at his friend with shock. Sherlock frowned.

"Why the look? It's a natural sexual experience –"

"Sure, right, but you? I'm just getting used to the fact that you have a son, and now I hear you had a threesome with a man who is basically your twin with your fiancée?"

"I'm not sure what point you are trying to make, John," Sherlock chuckled, sipping his own water. He let out a hefty sigh, still smiling, and looked down at his cooled pasta. "I suppose I should finish this since you're paying.

"What? Who said that?" John exclaimed. Sherlock ignored him as he took a bite.

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As Sherlock and John were enjoying some bonding time, Mary and Tabitha were putting Prescott down for the night. Evening was settling onto London quietly, with a soft snow falling. Mary and Tabitha walked down the hallway to the living room with chuckles.

"I love John, and I probably will never be up to do that, but that just sounds really _hot_," Mary said, emphasizing the word with intense hand gestures. Tabitha laughed harder and plopped down on the couch. Mary followed her, and they poured the wine that they had gotten out a few moments earlier into two wine glasses.

"Yeah. Ben was great. I mean as a person! And in bed," Tabitha murmured with a wink. Mary snorted and sipped her wine. "Anyway, other than that, it wasn't too crazy. The Doctor was split into two people – the good and the bad side. I was trapped in the TARDIS for a while, but then Prescott and I got out. The TARDIS used the last of her strength to get us out before the Red Doctor disappeared with her."

"Oh, god, that sounds horrible!"

"It was terrifying," Tabitha replied, frowning, staring into her wine. She sipped it with shaky hands as she remembered the ordeal. "It took a bit, but as soon as the Doctor figured out how to contact the TARDIS, I knew it would be fine."

"Good. I'm glad you're all safe. How are you feeling?"

"Glad to be home," Tabitha chuckled.

"No, I mean about leaving Ben. I take it you developed a little crush."

"It was a complicated thing," Tabitha mumbled, gulping down her wine glass. Mary sat her glass on the table with a soft sigh, then turned to her best friend. She took Tabitha's hand, still curled around the steam of the wine glass.

"So it was because of the connection between Sherlock and him that made you feel that way?" Mary raised her eyebrows as Tabitha thought how to answer.

"Yes. And he's a really nice guy. If I wasn't so in love with Sherlock, I would have stayed."

"But you choose Sherlock."

"Of course!"

Mary smiled and pulled her hands away.

"So, now that we have that settled, let's relax! God knows we deserve it."

Tabitha chuckled and sat down her glass on the table beside Mary's own glass. She leaned back against the couch, and the women got comfortable in the quiet living room. They smiled to themselves for a moment, and then turned to each other.

"I wonder when the boys will be home."

"Any moment, I think," Mary murmured, leaning back and closing her eyes.

The banged open just then, causing the women to sit up, startled.

"It's late, Sherlock, I want to get some sleep. We just got home."

"Lestrade needs us at Scotland Yard."

"Boys, be quiet! The baby is sleeping," Tabitha hissed, standing. She marched to Sherlock before he could take off his coat, grabbed the lapels, and hauled him toward her to kiss him hard on the lips. Sherlock hummed and returned the kiss with a slip of his tongue into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly.

"I think we should be heading home, yeah?" John murmured, pulling Mary toward the door. The couple kissing in front of the door stepped to the left, never parting. The door shut, and the couple finally pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"That was a lovely greeting," Sherlock murmured, a smirk on his lips. He pressed his forehead to Tabitha's forehead, his gloved palm on her cheek. "I think DI Lestrade can wait until morning."

"Are you asking for sex?"

"It's been three weeks."

"Oh, please, three weeks isn't anything to spaz about," Tabitha giggled, spinning away from him. She stretched and yawned as she sashayed down the hallway to their shared bedroom. Sherlock watched her intently as he shed his gloves and coat. He threw his suit jacket over the back of his chair and followed her.

When he entered their bedroom, Tabitha had stepped out of her clothing, leaving only lace matching undergarments. They were red this time. Sherlock hummed in appreciation as he shut the door quietly behind him. Tabitha grinned at him, her hands on her hips and her hair falling over her shoulders. She struck a seductive pose.

"I decided to try a new color. What do you think?"

"It's a lovely color, but I think the lace would look better on the floor."

Tabitha raised her eyebrows and was caught off guard when Sherlock pulled her roughly against him and started ravishing her mouth. She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving just as much as he was giving. Sherlock growled against her lips and ripped the front of the bra apart. Tabitha pulled back, heaving, and looked down with a mocking gasp.

"Oh no, you ruined it!"


	14. The Doctor Visits River Song

_Only a few more chapters left of this story, and I'll be wrapping it up! Thanks for the usual reviewers - you guys keep me going! Also, to the new people who have followed, favorited, and reviews, THANK YOU SO MUCH. Sexy times now..._

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**CHAPTER 14 - The Doctor Visits River Song**

"It's a good thing we keep your lingerie drawer stocked," Sherlock murmured against her lips as she slid the bra off her arms and threw it on ground. He slid his hands down her arms and circled her hips. She pressed her breasts against his chest.

"You're still wearing your nice shirt and trousers," she teased, moving her hand to cup his hardening shaft in her right hand. The other hand played with the hair at his neck.

"I thought you liked the contrasting sensations," Sherlock teased back, brushing his chest against her nipples. She groaned and closed her eyes, her buds tightening. He chuckled and pulled away from Tabitha. She pouted, but then grinned as he began to unbutton his shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back in another seductive pose, as he threw the shirt to the side of the room.

"Is there something you want me to do?" Tabitha fluttered her eyelashes at Sherlock.

He smirked as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his manhood. Tabitha bit her lip as she slid to kneel in front of him. She took his shaft onto her hand, stroking him as he ran his fingers through her hair. She lightly tongued his tip. Sherlock threw his head back, eyes closed, and thrust against her mouth. She took him deep. He moaned, gripped her hair, and thrust again. Tabitha allowed him to control their position as he used her mouth.

"On the bed, darling," Sherlock rasped, helping her onto the bed. She crawled on her hands and knees, stopping in the middle and looking back over her shoulder. Sherlock's pants had disappeared. The heated look he gave her made her suck in a breath as he knelt on the bed behind her. He caressed her behind, running his hands over the thin lace that covered her. Instead of a sensual thong, Tabitha knew that Sherlock liked the bikini style underwear.

"Are you going to rip those, too?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. He smacked her on the behind with a grin. She growled, glaring at him playfully over her shoulder. He winked at her and carefully slid the garment over her hips and down her thighs. She moved her calves so he could pull them off. "Thank you."

"Next time," he promised, gripping her hips. Tabitha closed her eyes and placed her cheek on the cool sheets beneath her, waiting for Sherlock to torture her like he usually would with his hands. Instead, he surprised her by thrusting hard inside her core, making her gasp in pain and pleasure.

"Sherlock!" Tabitha gripped the sheets as he thrust roughly against her. He held her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. He moaned and wrapped his hands around to grip her breasts. He pinch and pulled at her nipples as he plunged inside her. He bit the skin on her back, over her shoulders and low on her neck. She whimpered and pushed back against him, getting close to her orgasm.

"I love that I don't have to do much to make you come," Sherlock murmured, pinching her nipples with more force than before. Tabitha cried out, shuddering around his cock. Sherlock pumped a few more times and spilled himself into her with a growl. They held each other tightly as they caught their breath. Sherlock felt himself slipping out of Tabitha, and he pulled back slowly.

Tabitha fell onto her back with a sigh, spreading her legs and arms over the bed. Sherlock smiled at the pleased look on her face as he got a cloth to wash her body. He was just as satisfied as his fiancée. He came back to hear her lightly snoring and chuckled.

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Benedict had gone out with Tabitha three times, twice at his place and once at hers. He wasn't sure if this meant they were a couple, but tonight was their fourth date, and he was nervous as hell. He knew so much more about her then she did him, only because he met her mirror image a few months ago. This woman was different than the one before, though. She was shy, quiet, and completely okay with keeping their dates to her place or his.

He ran a hand through his short auburn hair, frowning as he tried to tame his curls. He had never been very good at straightening his own hair, so he sighed and smoothed them down one last time. He took a deep breath as he made sure the buttons on his white dress shirt was buttoned correctly. He smirked as he remembered their first official date at his place – the buttons had been so out of order that he had wanted to hide in the bathroom for a while.

Ben knew that he was slightly overdressed with his black trousers, but this night was special. He was going to ask her out on a public date with his parents. He jumped and swiftly turned away from the mirror as the doorbell rang. He jogged down his stairs and to the door. He grinned as he opened it. Tabitha stood there with a small, shy smile. She immediately brushed a hair behind her hair.

"Hi."

"Come in," he replied. She stepped in, and he shut the door behind her. He sucked in a breath at her soft beauty. Her red-gold hair was down in waves over her shoulders, her bangs brushing her eyebrows. She pushed her glasses up her nose as she turned to look up at him. "You look lovely."

She was wearing a black a-line dress with an illusion bodice and a ribbon belt clasped with a circled diamond brooch. Her feet were covered in a sexy pair of peep toe lace booties with a four inch heel. Tabitha brushed her hair behind her ear again, and looked down at herself.

"I figured it was time to spoil myself. I haven't bought new clothes in years." Ben pressed his lips together in a smile to keep from throwing out what he was thinking. _I promise to spoil you with anything you want._

"You deserve it," he instead commented, pressing his hand to her lower back and guiding her toward the living room. The light was dim, and the coffee table had two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. Tabitha lit up at the little chocolates that were beside the glasses. "After a long day at work, chocolate always makes you smile."

"I'm glad after just a few weeks you realize you can make me do anything when you offer chocolate," she chuckled, falling on the couch not-so-gracefully. She smoothed her dress over her thighs as she blushed. Benedict gulped as he sat next to her because he had caught a glance of bright red lace bikini underwear. Tabitha reached for a chocolate piece and took a bite. Ben poured the wine as she moaned and leaned back on the couch. "I am so glad you can afford the good stuff. I'm stuck with Reese's from a vending machine when I get a craving."

"I want you to meet my parents."

Ben blurted this as he handed her the wine glass. She stared at him with her lips parted in surprise.

"Are you sure? I mean… aren't you worried about what the … well, world may say?"

"That I finally found a woman I can see myself settling down with? What's wrong with that?"

Tabitha froze as the wine touched her lips. Benedict felt his face flush and he started to stutter. She blushed and put a finger to his mouth to quiet his words.

"If you're sure you want to do this, I feel the same way. It's like I've known you longer than I actually have."

Ben grinned and pulled her in for a steamy kiss, tasting the wine and chocolate on her tongue.

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Tabitha stood next to Prescott's playard with her arms across her chest. She smiled as she watched her son investigating a colorful rattle in front of him while he made noises. She looked out the window, seeing the sun out, and let out a squeal. Finally, some sun in this gloomy winter month! She hurried to the bedroom, bringing the baby monitor with her, and changed into skinny jeans, thigh-high flat-footed boots, and a long-sleeved dark jumper. Putting her hair up in a bun, she came back out into the living room.

"Let's go visit Aunt Molly! If we're lucky, we'll get to see daddy in action!"

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With Prescott in her arms, wearing his warm winter clothing, Tabitha hummed as she strolled into the morgue. She stopped short with an amused look on her face as the group around the body shouted at one another.

"The body has been dead for 48 hours!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"24 hours, John," Sherlock replied, his face stoic and blank. Vincent looked between the two of them, looking like he didn't know which side to pick.

"Why do you think 24 hours? I did the full workup, and he's been dead 48 hours," Molly frowned, her hands over her chest next to Vince. Mary stood close to John, staring at the body.

"Seriously, John, Molly, have you lost your intelligence to sexual gratification?" Sherlock frowned, brows furrowed, his hands in his pockets. Tabitha sighed and rolled her eyes. John and Molly both pressed their lips together in anger. Vince swallowed and stepped to his girlfriend, while Mary frowned at Sherlock.

"Have you?" John spit back. He jerked around and stomped toward the door, pushing past Tabitha. He didn't stop to greet her as he left the room.

"That was uncalled for, Sherlock," Mary murmured, glaring at Sherlock as she followed her fiancé. Molly stepped up to Sherlock and poked him in the chest with her finger.

"You are being a complete arse. What is wrong with you?"

"Is no one listening to me? All of you are _wrong_!" Sherlock stomped to the table, pointing down at the petri dish. The three left in the room didn't seem to notice Tabitha moving closer. "This specimen is deteriorating at double the speed it should, because of the poison."

"What?" Molly stepped and leaned down next to Sherlock. She studied it a moment, and flushed.

"Sherlock, now that she knows you're right, apologize for being a jerk."

The two jumped and straightened at her voice. Vincent looked relieved that she was there. Sherlock smirked and immediately moved to Tabitha, taking his grinning son in his arms. Tabitha poked his shoulder as he bounced Prescott in his arms.

"He's right. You're right, Sherlock," Molly sighed, giving the sample to Vincent to do new paperwork.

"Yes, but he was being a huge jerk. Apologize," Tabitha repeated, raising her eyebrows at him. Sherlock looked up from his son and frowned. He huffed and turned to Molly.

"I am sorry that my tone was not appropriate."

"Thank you," Molly answered with a small smile.

"Now, text John." Tabitha pulled his phone from his long coat and held it out to him.

"Fine," he murmured, snatching the phone and handing Prescott back to Tabitha.

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Sherlock couldn't put words to what he was feeling. He was being more irritable than he usually acted. John had accepted his apologetic text almost immediately. He sat on the floor, legs crossed, while Prescott sat on his behind, slobbering on one of his stuffed animals – an otter. Tabitha had explained the connection between himself and the animal in her world. It was amusing, but completely untrue. Nonetheless, Prescott seemed to call this little stuffed animal his favorite.

Sherlock smiled softly down at his son. He was on his stomach, laying on a deep emerald baby blanket, surrounded by toys that Tabitha and Sherlock agreed would help his development. His fiancée was taking a shower, and afterwards Sherlock concluded that she would make them both dinner. At almost 7 months, Prescott was starting to eat solid food. Sherlock reached over to the diaper bag as Prescott murmured and shook the otter with vigor.

"You are developing on track, little Prescott," Sherlock murmured, making notes in his notebook. He quickly measured and estimated weight of his son. When Tabitha walked in, Sherlock was in his chair with a book in his hand. Prescott was in the same place as when she had left for her shower.

"Sherlock, you have a major danger sitting right next to our son," Tabitha said with a frown. Sherlock furrowed his eyes in confusion as she hurriedly pulled a kitchen chair stacked high with books and a printer further away from Prescott.

"He can't reach it. It's sturdy."

"Not taking a chance," Tabitha sighed, rolling her eyes. She crouched down to Prescott and tickled his stomach. The infant wiggled and smiled.

"Valentine's Day is coming up."

Tabitha raised an eyebrow at Sherlock as she stood. Prescott put his attention back on his beloved otter. She made her way into the kitchen to start preparing a quick dinner of baked chicken and vegetables. Sherlock watched her from over the top of his book discreetly. Why hadn't she made a comment about what he had said?

"Tabitha?"

"Yes?" She kept her eyes on the vegetables she was cutting up.

"I am expected to have a plan for that holiday, yes?"

"You didn't last year," she chuckled, glancing at him with a grin before turning back to her work. Sherlock sat his book next to him on the table and pressed his fingers together with a little laugh.

"You didn't seem to mind. Since we have a child, do you mind this year?"

"You don't have to have a plan, Sherlock," she commented. Tabitha turned her body quickly to face Sherlock from the kitchen counter. "And I am saying this in complete honesty – not one of those 'I do but don't want to tell you' type of things."

"I see," Sherlock answered, a real smile on his face. Tabitha turned back to her dinner preparations. "Do you like surprises?"

"Your surprises? I think I'm just curious enough to let it happen."

"Hm," Sherlock replied, his mind going a mile a minute going through options and things that should be done.

He would ask John and Mary to care for Prescott for the night. Luckily, the holiday fell on a weekend. He'd also have to contact certain officials, get paperwork, and a place for the celebration. He placed Mycroft at the head of those issues. He grabbed his phone.

**Tabitha and I are to be married on Valentine's Day. Can you get the proper paperwork and officiate lined up for that day? – SH**

**Sherlock, you do realize it will be very hard to have everything ready in three weeks? – MH**

**I assume you can fix that – SH**

**Of course. – MH**

**Is that a yes? Also, Tabitha is not to know until the day. – SH**

**I'll email you the information in three days at the latest. – MH**

Sherlock grinned, flipped his phone in his hand, and sat it on the side table. Tabitha placed food in the oven, washed her hands, and went to work making Prescott's dinner.

"Sherlock, can you change him?"

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**Sherlock is planning something on Valentine's Day. Can you two get any information from your guys? – TH**

**John says to check the whole flat every day. It may not be safe for children, especially now that Prescott is scooting around. – MM**

**I can't say a thing, you know that! – Mx**

**I'm already going through the flat twice a day keeping it relatively safe. Sherlock threw a tantrum when I moved all his experiments to the kitchen – TH**

**So you know, Molly! – TH**

**Vincent can't keep a secret from me. – Mx**

**It's not an experiment, though, apparently. At least, John hopes it's not. – MM**

**I shouldn't have ask. – TH**

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One week until Valentine's Day, and the Doctor clasped his hands nervously in front of a mirror in his personal room in his blue box. He straightened his bowtie and ran a hand through his hair.

"Seriously, you've spent plenty of time with River. Why are you so nervous now, you clot?"

He huffed and grabbed the small dark blue wrapped box from the bedside table. He hurried down the stairs to see Clara placing a small suitcase near the double doors. He grinned and threw out his arms. She smiled back and hugged him tightly.

"Ah, my Clara. Have fun with the new boyfriend. Don't let him get away with anything, you hear?"

"Shush, you sound like a father." He just smiled at her as they pulled back. "Don't have too much fun with Ms. Song."

"It's always an adventure with River."

Clara laughed, hugged him one last time, and left the box. The Doctor watched the door for a moment, and jumped when a thought slammed into him. Wine! He needed wine! He turned toward the chairs near the console and saw a bottle wrapped with a red bow.

"Thank you!" he shouted up into the TARDIS ceiling. He picked up the bottle, placed it gently in a little nook on the console, and set about to meet River at their special spot.

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Benedict watched his Tabitha doing the dishes in his kitchen. He grinned as he stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. She jumped in surprise and giggled. She laid her head back on his shoulder for a moment before going back to her work.

"What's up?"

"My parents love you."

"I hope so. Have you checked the gossip?"

"I never do."

"I'm only getting a little bit of negative reviews."

Suddenly, the wind starting blowing around the room, and the couple turned their head quickly toward the spacious living room. Tabitha gaped and Benedict frowned in confusion as the TARDIS appeared.

"Wow, this is going to be hard to explain."

"You're going to try, right?" she asked nervously, pressing herself against Benedict. He kissed her temple and waited for the door to open.

"Are you ready, my love?" The Doctor burst out of the blue doors with flair, flinging his arms out and twirling, a wine bottle with a bow in his hand. Benedict raised an eyebrow as Tabitha stared, wide-eyed. The Doctor stopped suddenly and frowned. Realizing he was in the wrong place, he gasped and blushed. "Oh, this is definitely not our special spot."

"No, I assume it isn't. Why are you here, Doctor?" Benedict chuckled, stilling holding onto his Tabitha.

"Ben, who is this? What is that?" she gestured her head toward the blue box. Her hands were on top of his, which was around her waist. He kissed her temple again in reassurance.

"This is the Doctor. He's a … interesting friend."

"Yes! Yes, Hello, Benedict! Hello, Tabitha, how are you?"

"You know who I am?"

"Of course! It feels like I know you very well, from Benedict, of course," the Doctor grinned. "As to why I'm here, I don't have a clue. I was meeting River at our spot. Why did you send me here, TARDIS?"

He swung around and faced the big blue box. Tabitha stared skeptically as the light on top of the box faded in and out, followed by a whirring sound. The Doctor thought about the noise, and sighed in defeat.

"Are you sure he's, you know, all there?" she whispered to Ben.

"Trust me, it's all real. The TARDIS is pretty damn awesome," he whispered back.

"It seems the TARDIS got over-excited and over-jumped the time stream. She's as excited to see Ms. Song as I am," he chuckled, straightening his bowtie. "Good to see you, Ben. Nice to meet you, Ms. Wilson. I'll be off!"

The Doctor disappeared as quickly as he appeared. Tabitha and Benedict stayed wrapped around one another for a moment as they processed what had just happened. She pulled away and turned, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"You are going to tell me everything."

"You are never going to believe it." He smiled sheepishly.


End file.
